


you have to be (all mine)

by scootsaboot, sealdog



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, M/M, POV Multiple, Stalking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-08-19 11:11:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8203826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scootsaboot/pseuds/scootsaboot, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sealdog/pseuds/sealdog
Summary: Hugo’s eyes widened as he took in the casual outfit Rhys was wearing, so different from his work clothing that Hugo wouldn’t have even recognized him if he hadn’t tilted his head at the right angle. Hugo swallowed, his hands going clammy as he watched the man talk to the barista, a pleasant smile on his face. He remembered Rhys worked at Hyperion, but at the other branch, twenty miles away from here. What were the chances he’d be at Hugo’s favorite coffee shop on a Saturday?The universe was trying to tell him something, he was sure of it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been a looooong time in the making. I started writing it over a year ago, and I'm really proud to say that it's the first multi-chapter fic I've done since I was like 13. HUUUGE thank you to Jun, who cheered me on for MONTHS, brainstormed with me and even wrote a few scenes for this!! I also want to thank thirtysixsavefiles and ledgem for beta-ing and ALSO cheering me on. Honestly wouldn't have gotten this finished without you guys. You're great! 
> 
> Actual Fic Notes: Vasquez is pretty creepy in this, and he does some really shady stuff, so if that makes you uncomfortable, I'd recommend not reading.

Hugo whistled as he made his way down the city block, a cheerful spring in his step. There was nothing quite like an early lunch to brighten his mood. The fact that he’d pushed one of his projects onto a coworker to get said early lunch was of no consequence to him.

As long as the department’s work all got done, their manager didn’t need to know who was actually doing it. The guy was always too wrapped up in his own projects from the CEO to pay any mind to what his underlings were doing anyway. In fact, the only times Hugo could remember him leaving his office was to yell at people for their mistakes. Hugo had thankfully flown under his radar thus far.

Several bums sat alongside the sidewalk as Hugo made his way back to Hyperion, most holding sad little cardboard signs in their grimy hands, cups and upturned hats set out in front of them for spare change. He sneered down at them as he passed, purposefully giving them a wide berth.

The business sector, and Hyperion especially, had always been like a shining beacon for the homeless, drawing them in in droves. They knew where the wealth was, Hugo would give them that. Why they didn’t just clean themselves up and get a job in the area they were loitering, however, was beyond even him.

Hugo let himself in through the glass door at the front of the Hyperion building. The familiar and pleasant air conditioned breeze gently washed over him and he relaxed his shoulders, glad to have a barrier between him and the homeless people outside.

The main Hyperion building was enormous, standing at an impressive sixty-floors tall. It had been renovated just over a year ago, after their CEO had bought out the previous owners, Atlas. Tassiter had seen to the remodeling before the ink on the contract had even dried, turning the clunky old building into something sleek and modern. Once it was up to his standards, Tassiter had moved main operations from their smaller building just outside the city to this one.

The front lobby was laid with black and gold helix tile flooring, polished to a spectacular shine. An assortment of neatly placed black leather couches filled the area, creating plenty of space for people to wait and socialize. The lobby didn’t usually see much activity outside of the early mornings, and when most employees got off for the day. Today was no different.

There were a few employees Hugo recognized, and some he didn’t, lounging on the furniture, completely absorbed in their laptop screens. It left the entire lobby blissfully calm and quiet, accompanied only by the sounds of keys clacking as people typed.

“I come in here every Friday!”

The sudden outburst caught Hugo’s attention, and he turned his head toward the front desk, eyebrow raising at the scene. There was a man standing at the desk, with long legs that made him tall enough to look imposing next to the secretary sitting behind it. He was dressed nicely enough; a silky black dress shirt, the sleeves rolled at the elbow, covered by a golden pinstriped black vest that made his waist look impossibly small.

His brown hair was slicked back and perfectly coiffed, save for a few short strands that fell across his forehead. The black dress pants he wore matched the vest, and were tailored to hug his legs, doing nothing to hide the curve of his ass.

Hugo shamelessly looked the other man up and down, taking in the tenseness of his shoulders as he argued with the secretary. He made his way across the floor and stood in line behind him, keeping a respectable distance, his eyes still roving over the man’s backside.

“I’m sorry sir, without an ID, I can’t let you go in,” the secretary said, her voice flat and clearly uninterested.

“This is ridiculous,” the leggy man snapped back, “I _work_ here! I mean—at the other branch,” he backtracked, “But still, I’m a Hyperion employee, and I need go upstairs to get my—“

“Without an ID, I can’t let you go anywhere,” the secretary interrupted him, holding her hand up. Her other one was hidden, but even from here Hugo knew it was hovering over the phone to call security.

“Oh my _god_ ,” the man huffed irritably, and Hugo wished he could see the man’s face, no doubt scrunched up in anger. “Look, I don’t know if you’re new or something but—where the hell is Yvette? She can vouch for me.”

“She’s out sick today.”

“Oh, great! That’s just _great_ —“

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave, or I’ll be calling security.”

“That,” Hugo finally intervened, stepping forward to stand alongside the tall man, resting his arms on top of the desk, “won’t be necessary.” The man looked at him in surprise; from his new spot Hugo could see the sharp lines of his cheekbones and defined lips that were pulled into a cute pout. The florescent lights above them glinted against the man’s chrome colored right arm, which Hugo instantly recognized as one of Hyperion’s newer cybernetic models.

Hugo winked at the man, then turned his charming grin on the secretary.

“He’s with me,” he lied easily, bringing one hand to rest on the man’s lower back. “We just need to have a little chat upstairs. Thanks Cindy, you’re a doll.”

Cindy narrowed her eyes and looked between the two of them with suspicion. Hugo reached into his pocket with his free hand and flashed his ID at her for good measure.

“…Alright, sir,” she finally said. “Go ahead.”

Hugo quickly led the taller man past the desk and to the elevator, keeping his hand pressed firmly against his back, reveling in the warmth radiating from the contact. He inhaled the scent of the other man’s cologne; something subtle but sharp, elegant in a way that only a Hyperion employee could be.

“Hah, jeez,” the taller man finally spoke as they stepped into the elevator and the golden doors slid shut. “Thanks for that,” he said, shaking his head, the pinched expression gone from his face and replaced by a sheepish smile.

Hugo regretfully let his hand fall back to his side and grinned in response. “Hey, it was my pleasure. Cindy can be a real bitch sometimes.”

The man shrugged, “It’s usually Yvette at the front on Fridays…I’ve never seen her before.” He reached out to hit the button for the 34th floor, which—

“What a coincidence,” Hugo continued, leaning back against the railing, “you a programmer?”

“Oh, no. I’m not—uh, not anymore anyway. Engineer.”

“Which department?” Hugo asked, “I was back in robotics before we got the new building.”

The taller man was definitely more at ease now, his shoulders relaxed as he rested his hands against the rail behind him. Now that Hugo really got a chance to look at him properly, he could see just how young he was. His skin was smooth and flawless, save for a thin, barely-there scar beneath his lower lip. The man’s eyes were heterochromatic, one brown, one blue, and so bright they were hard to look away from.

“Yeah, I started in robotics too,” he said, “I’m in cybernetics now.” He tapped the fingers of his cybernetic arm against the railing behind him, his smile shifting into something proud. “Not to brag or anything, but I actually worked on the prototypes for the FGS-23 line.”

“Huh,” Hugo raised an eyebrow and smirked, “Good looking _and_ smart.”

The other man laughed, and Hugo’s heart stopped at the sound alone. He watched the faint blush rise on the man’s high cheeks and the nervous way he rubbed the back of his neck—Hugo knew he couldn’t let this conversation end without at least getting his name.

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever been complimented instead of insulted in a Hyperion building.”

“I just call it like I see it,” Hugo replied with a grin. “Name’s Hugo by the way. Hugo Vasquez.”

“Rhys.”

“Nice to meet you, Rhys,” Hugo said pleasantly, letting the man’s name roll on his tongue.

All too soon, the elevator came to a stop, a quiet ‘ding’ ringing out in the small space as the doors slid open.

“Thanks again,” Rhys said with a smile as he stepped out, “see you around.”

Hugo watched him go, eyes roving over Rhys’ thin shoulders, his long legs, his ass—oh yeah, he definitely wanted a piece of that.

 

* * *

 

Rhys didn’t bother knocking when he reached Jack’s office, just let himself inside and quietly shut the door behind him. His mood had lifted dramatically since he’d been arguing with the secretary downstairs. It was always nice getting complimented by strangers.

“Hey babe,” Jack said from behind his desk, eyes darting up only briefly from his computer screen.

“Hey,” Rhys grinned, stepping closer. “You ready to go? Our reservation’s in twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah, just…” Jack continued typing, “Tassiter’s gonna have my ass if I don’t finish this code before I leave.”

“Ugh,” Rhys rolled his eyes and flopped into the chair in front of Jack’s desk. “You were supposed to be _ready._ They’re not going to hold our table again.”

“Aw, is someone feeling a little hangry?” Jack mocked, making Rhys scowl. “Jeez, there, look I’m done. _Impatient_.” He rolled back from the desk and stood, stretching his arms above his head.

He gave Rhys another look, raising one eyebrow. “You keep makin’ that face, it’s gonna stick,” he said as he rounded the desk, an obnoxious lighting up his face.

Jack gently grabbed Rhys’ face and squished his cheeks in, making Rhys’ lips puff out. Rhys tried not to grin as the older man leaned down to kiss him, attempting to keep up the pretense of being annoyed. It didn’t work. As soon as their lips met, Rhys laughed and brought his hands up to shove Jack away.

“Alright, come on,” Jack said as he pulled back and straightened up. “Let’s get outta here before Tassiter comes looking for me.”

Rhys got to his feet and the two headed out, Jack’s arm slipping around Rhys’ shoulders as they headed for the parking garage.

 

* * *

 

“Yvette wasn’t at the front desk today, out sick or something,” Rhys grumbled, after handing his menu off to the waiter. “The lady who was there almost didn’t let me up. I was _this_ close to getting thrown out!”

Jack snorted, “Would’ve loved to see that. What was her name? I could report her.”

“Don’t bother,” Rhys waved him off. “She was just doing her job. It was annoying, but I’m not going to get her fired over it.”

“You’re no fun.”

Rhys hummed in agreement and took a sip of his iced tea.

“Well, when _I’m_ the CEO,” Jack said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m gonna get rid of that front desk secretary all together. Let the computers do it—fingerprint scanners or some shit. I’ll get us our own private elevator too.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Y’know, for sex stuff.”

“You’ve been saying that for years,” Rhys replied, fixing him with an unimpressed look. “Also, gross.”

“Babe, it’s not my fault the crypt keeper is still haunting the place. Thought Tassiter’d be dead for sure before the Christmas party. I lost a hundred bucks on that bet,” Jack frowned.

“A _hundred_ —“ Rhys cut himself off before he raised his voice. “Nevermind. Whatever. Not important right now. Henderson came to talk to me today.”

“Did he ask if you wanted in on his kitten-fighting ring?”

“No,” Rhys rolled his eyes, “and you don’t have any proof of that. He told me that the construction on the new wing is getting put on hold again. The wiring’s all messed up down there, and they have to re-do it. And I was thinking—“

The waiter returned and set their dishes in front of them; a chicken fillet for Rhys, and steak for Jack. Rhys shifted in his seat as he waited for the man to refill their drinks, shaking his head politely when asked if they needed anything else.

Once he left, Rhys glanced at Jack again. The other man was already cutting into his steak.

“I was thinking,” Rhys continued, drumming his fingers against the table, “I know we said we’d wait until I got transferred to the main building, but...well, my lease will be up before that happens. If it ever happens,” he added irritably. It almost felt like the construction project was cursed, always running into dead ends and getting delayed since early last year.

“I just think it would make sense for me to move in once it’s up,” Rhys said. “I don’t want to renew it, and then have them finish the wing three months later and have to break the lease. There’s some ridiculous fee, like fifteen-hundred dollars.”

Jack chewed his steak. “When’s it up?”

“October.”

When Jack didn’t immediately reply, Rhys continued. “I just—it would be a little less convenient getting to work, sure, but I don’t want to base our entire life around when Hyperion can get its shit together, you know?”

“Plus,” he added, his voice turning honey-sweet, “Your bed is way comfier than mine.” 

He bit his lip, watching Jack for his reaction. Jack generally tried to avoid talking about their relationship in any capacity. It’d taken him a year and a half before he started referring to Rhys as his boyfriend—something he _still_ had issues with—and the ‘L word’ was still about as rare as a unicorn made of diamonds.

That didn’t matter much to Rhys though. He knew words didn’t come easily for the older man, but Rhys could read the subtle expressions of his face, knew how to interpret the way Jack held himself and was practically an expert in parsing through Jack’s more ridiculous gestures and finding meaning in them.

“Anything is comfier than that slab of concrete you call a bed,” Jack replied after a moment. He chewed his food, looking thoughtful, before he finally said, “Yeah, alright.”

Rhys let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and smiled. “Cool. I’ll give them my notice then.”

They finished their lunch and Rhys drove Jack back to the office.

“I’ll see you at five, yeah?” Rhys asked once he pulled up in front of the Hyperion building, idling the car. Most weekends, he spent the night at Jack’s place because yeah, Jack had a _really_ comfy bed. And Rhys would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the dog when he spent the weekend at home rather than at Jack’s.

Jack patted his pockets, and nodded. “Yeah, unless Tassiter makes me stay late again. Fuckin’ asshole.”

“Alright,” Rhys sighed, “try not to yell at anyone. I don’t want to get a call about you having an aneurism.”

“Heh, no promises,” Jack smirked. He leaned over and quickly kissed Rhys, before climbing out of the car. Rhys watched him head into the building, shoulders squared, before pulling away from the curb. Rhys didn’t usually get off early on Fridays, but today he’d been so nervous about approaching Jack about the move that he’d asked his boss to leave after lunch. He was lucky that Henderson liked him enough to let him go.

Jack’s apartment was a short ten-minute drive from the downtown Hyperion office, and the building nearly rivaled the company’s in height. It was a nice place, surrounded by a large park and an upscale strip mall that Rhys liked to pretend he could afford to shop at.

Rhys fished into his pocket for his keys and unlocked the door, smiling when he heard the familiar scratching of Warrior’s claws against the hardwood floors. He opened the door and the Doberman rushed out to greet him, nearly bowling him over.

“Warrior!” Rhys bent down to grasp the dog’s face, scratching his neck. “I missed you too, buddy!” he smooched the dog’s head and corralled him back inside the apartment, shutting the door behind them. Warrior circled around him as he moved further inside the apartment, tongue hanging out and tail wagging in excitement.

“Okay, okay, give me a minute,” Rhys laughed, undoing the buttons on his vest. He headed to the dresser in Jack’s bedroom and rifled through the top drawer. A good portion of his casual outfits had made their way over to Jack’s apartment, and Rhys could never be bothered to gather them all up and take them home. He guessed it didn’t really matter now, since he’d be moving the rest of his closet over here soon enough.

He changed into a loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts that went just past his knees, and slipped into a worn pair of sandals.

“You wanna go walkies?” he asked Warrior when he stepped back out into the living room. Warrior leapt excitedly at the words and barked. “Walkies?” Rhys asked again, for no reason other than to watch the dog rile himself up more. “Go get your leash!”

Warrior ran to the door and fetched his leash from where it hung beside it. He brought it back to Rhys and dropped it into his hand. Rhys clipped it into Warriors’ collar, then eyed the leash, dirty from the park and frayed at the edges from use. He’d told Jack to buy another one, but Jack was the type of person to use something until it disintegrated.

“We’re gonna go walkies,” Rhys said, opening the door, “and then we’re getting you a new leash, okay?”

Warrior didn’t seem to care much, bolting out of the door and down the hall, tugging Rhys along behind him.

 

* * *

 

Jack frowned at his computer screen, irritably tapping a pen against his desk. He should’ve known he wouldn’t be getting out of here at five. Tassiter just loved making his life miserable too much to let Jack leave work on time.

The CEO had sent him three new files he needed to look over, fix, and send back to him before he left today. God, he couldn’t wait for the old fucker to die. He was under enough stress as it was with the deadline for the new OS line coming up next month.

And _Rhys._

They were coming up on three years together now, and Rhys had brought up the idea of them moving in together long before Tassiter decided to move the cybernetics lab to the main Hyperion building.

Jack had always been able to find a way around the subject before—but that night, they’d been drinking, and Rhys was complaining about the drive, and Jack had just—just _said_ it. Just “move in with me then,” like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Rhys had gotten quiet after that, but the shy smile on his face was proof enough that he was pleased.

Jack, on the other hand, wasn’t sure what the hell to do. He’d never gotten in so deep with anyone, not even Angel’s mom. This was all foreign territory and he felt the compulsion to stall until…until when, he wasn’t sure. Until something gave, and Rhys finally decided Jack was too much and not enough all at once. Jack was used to girlfriends who got sick of him after three months or irregular fuck buddies who’d ignore him if they ever saw him outside a bedroom.

This thing with Rhys, the domesticity of it all, was downright terrifying.

He bounced his leg, the code on the screen going by unread as Jack furrowed his brow, his thoughts consumed by a Rhys-shaped black hole. The pen slipped from his fingers and clattered on the floor, halfway across the room.

He glared at it for a long moment, before going back to his work.

It was nearly eight when Jack finally got home. Warrior was waiting at the door when he opened it, barking and sniffing at Jack’s hands like he was expecting a treat. Jack herded him back and locked the door behind him. Rhys was lounging on the couch, his brightly-colored socked feet up on the glass coffee table, phone in one hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other. There was a plate of noodles resting on his lap, and the various takeout boxes strewn across the table pointed towards him ordering from the Chinese place down the street.

“Hey!” Rhys grinned, “I got you a large orange chicken, and some spring rolls. But, uh,” he ducked his head, “I kinda spilled your sweet and sour sauce. We can share though, I still have plenty!”

“Dumbass,” Jack snorted, some of the day’s tension seeping out of him.

Jack slid out of his jacket and tossed it over the armchair before plopping onto the couch beside Rhys. The other man squawked and lifted his plate so it didn’t spill. “Thanks babe,” Jack reached over and stole one of Rhys’ egg rolls, chomping into it.

“Hhh—hot, _hot_ ,” Jack immediately stuck his tongue out, letting the half-chewed bite fall back onto Rhys’ plate.

“Gross!” Rhys shrieked, his face morphing into a look of horror. “Jack!” He frantically nudged at the piece of egg roll with his chopsticks, trying to quarantine it away from his lo mein.

Jack howled with laughter and slapped Rhys on the knee, only laughing harder when the other man fixed him with a disgruntled look.

“Yeah? Laugh it up, asshole. I’m gonna feed your chicken to the dog.”

Later, when they were curled up in Jack’s plush king-size bed, Jack looked down at Rhys’ sleeping face. He was completely at ease, mouth hanging open, a sizeable puddle of drool already soaked into the pillow. Ugh. Jack made a mental note, adding ‘ _would have to change sheets more often_ ’ to the List of ‘Reasons Why Rhys Shouldn’t Move In’. It was slotted right between ‘ _cold feet_ ’ and ‘ _takes forever to get ready in the morning_ ’.

Jack’s laptop bathed Rhys’ face in soft light, the scene settling like a rock in Jack’s chest. How the hell did anyone live like this? With another person always pressed up against them, literally and figuratively? The anxious energy that came with it didn’t seem worth it, coiled tight and ready to strike, leaving him uneasy.

Jack sighed through his nose, fingers tapping his keyboard harshly.

God dammit.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your nice comments!! I really appreciate it, you guys are super awesome! I hope you enjoy chapter 2 :)

It was two weeks before Hugo saw Rhys again, this time at the coffee shop a block away from the downtown Hyperion office. It was early Saturday morning, and he’d just gotten comfortable at a corner table, a warm croissant and a coffee spread out in front of him.

He wanted to say it was fate, when he glanced up and saw Rhys standing at the counter. Hugo’s eyes widened as he took in the casual outfit Rhys was wearing, so different from his work clothing that Hugo wouldn’t have even recognized him if he hadn’t tilted his head at the right angle. He swallowed, his hands going clammy as he watched the man talk to the barista, a pleasant smile on his face.

God but he looked good though. Happy and carefree as he slid the change from his transaction into the tip jar on the counter. Hugo took a long sip from his coffee, eyes roving over the other man’s form.

There was no way this was a coincidence. He remembered Rhys worked at Hyperion, but at the other branch, twenty miles away from here. What were the chances he’d be at Hugo’s favorite coffee shop on a Saturday?

The universe was trying to tell him something, he was sure of it.

Rhys stepped away from the counter and set his bag down at one of the nearby tables, perfectly within Hugo’s range of vision. He took a seat and pulled out his phone, head bent as he focused on his screen.

Hugo looked down at his outfit and brought a hand to his chest to smooth out the wrinkles on his shirt. He ran it through his hair, pushing any wayward strands back into their perfect position. This was almost too easy—he’d get Rhys’ number, take him out, and maybe even get lucky. Rhys didn’t seem like the type of guy to put out on the first date, but Hugo knew he could probably change that.

Just as he moved to stand, another person joined Rhys at the table, their hand resting against the back of the Rhys’ chair. Rhys smiled brightly and tilted his head to kiss the stranger.

Hugo’s eyes widened, cold dread washing over him along with the realization that Rhys wasn’t single. He couldn’t believe it—well, okay, sure, Rhys was attractive and smart. Of _course_ someone would have noticed that and snatched him up. They’d just managed to do it before Hugo could. Something nasty formed in his gut as he tore his eyes from Rhys to look at whatever chump he was dating.

His mouth went dry when he saw exactly who the chump was. He’d know that ridiculous hairstyle anywhere—it was Jack Lawrence. His _boss_. He watched with growing anger as the two separated and Jack slumped into the seat beside Rhys, throwing his feet up onto an unoccupied chair.

Just what in the hell was Jack- _Douchebag-Of-The-Year_ -Lawrence doing dating someone as sweet as Rhys? He’d seen Jack angry at the office; the shout-y, breaking things type of anger that had scared the piss out of a lot of his co-workers. How could Rhys be with someone like that?

He glared at Jack’s stupid side-swept hair in the hopes that he’d sense the hostility and just leave. No such luck, and Hugo watched as Jack tightened his grip around Rhys’ shoulders into something possessive.

He didn’t know how long he watched them, but soon they were gathering their things and getting to their feet. They left the shop, Rhys’ head tossed back as he laughed at something Jack had said.

Hugo fumed.

He had to talk to Rhys.

The opportunity to do just that dropped into his lap not even a week later.

Jack needed someone to run a couple of sensitive files over to the other branch. He gave the job to Cyrus, a nervous-looking guy who sat a few rows down from Hugo.

It was perfect; Hugo would just do the errand for him. It would give him a chance to talk to Rhys without Jack anywhere nearby, and maybe he could even needle some information about their relationship out of him.

Hugo watched Jack return to his office, and once the door shut firmly behind him, he got up from his desk and made a beeline for Cyrus’. The other man was just starting to collect his things, putting his keys in his pocket and grabbing a coat.

“Hey guy,” Hugo grinned easily, leaning against the edge of Cyrus’ desk. “Couldn’t help overhearing the boss man’s sending you on an errand.”

Cyrus startled at his presence, but he straightened his stance and huffed irritably. “Yes, as if we’re not busy enough as it is with this new OS. Why he can’t just hand them off to an intern is beyond me.”

“You know how he is,” Hugo chuckled, shaking his head. “Likes things done a certain way.”

Cyrus glanced at Jack’s closed door and frowned. Hugo coughed and slid his arm around the slightly shorter man’s shoulders. “Listen buddy, I’ll tell you what. How ‘bout I take those files off your hands and deliver ‘em for you?”

“What?” Cyrus’ eyebrows furrowed. “Why would you do that?”

“I got some things I need to take care of on that side of town, anyway. So it’d be reeeaal convenient for me. I scratch your nuts, you scratch mine kinda deal, just between us. What do you say?”

“Deal,” Cyrus replied quickly, and Hugo’s grin widened. Score. “As long as you never say that to me again.”

“ _Deal_.”

The smaller Hyperion building was still in the style of the company’s old colors, an almost menacing mix of black and red that wound around it from the ground to the roof. Compared to the newer one, it was low-tech—the labs were smaller and didn’t receive even a fraction as much funding as the ones at the newer branch. It didn’t even have the new computers installed in the offices yet, leaving the poor saps stuck there to work with the shitty ones that still ran on Vista.

Hugo had had to cash in a _lot_ of IOU’s to get transferred to the new building.

But that wasn’t important right now. What was important, he grinned at himself in the mirrored elevator, smoothing his hair back in a perfect coif, was that he was about to see Rhys.

Cybernetics was on the fourth floor, and when Hugo stepped out of the elevator, he looked over the lab in search of the tall man. He frowned when he couldn’t immediately spot Rhys, but set his shoulders and made his way down the hall, poking his head into each workstation as he went.

When he finally found him, Rhys was bent over his desk, thick goggles pulled over his eyes, and a pair of tiny tools in either hand as he poked around the wiring of a cybernetic arm, not unlike his own. His tongue peeked out from between his lips, pink and wet, and Hugo had a vision of that same tongue on his cock.

He tore his eyes away to look at the rest of Rhys’ workspace. One of the old computers sat on the desk to his left, two screens lit up with schematics, framed by a myriad of colorful post-it notes with nearly illegible scrawl on them. There were no less than seven mugs littered around the desk, and pictures were tacked up on the wall. Hugo scowled when he spotted Jack in most of them, always pressed close to Rhys.

Hugo looked back at Rhys, who so far hadn’t noticed his presence, still completely absorbed in his work. “Rhys,” he said, stepping closer and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Rhys jerked in surprise, his tools clattering onto the table as he narrowly avoided smacking his head on the cybernetic arm in front of him.

“ _Jesus H_ ,” Rhys wheezed, clutching his chest. He swiveled around in his chair, wide-eyed. “What the hell?”

Hugo grinned, pulling his hand back to straighten his tie. “Hey, didn’t mean to scare you. Just saw you hunched over your desk—was hoping you could help me out. Got a little lost, I think.”

“Oh—oh hey, you’re that guy,” Rhys blinked, “um, Henry, right?”

“It’s Hugo,” his smile dropped, voice a little tight. Had Rhys honestly forgotten his name after what Hugo had done for him?

“Right,” Rhys shook his head, “I’m sorry. It’s been a long week.”

Hugo relaxed, his smile reappearing. It had been a very short meeting after all, and Rhys was clearly overloaded with work over here. He was probably just tired; he wasn’t flippant enough to forget someone who’d done him a favor.

“It’s fine, Rhys,” Hugo replied, “Ain’t no thang.”

Rhys smiled, “So—uh, what did you need help with?”

“Well, I have some pretty important documents that need to get delivered to R&D,” Vasquez held up the folder, and laughed. “Been awhile since I’ve been over here though, kinda forgot where it is.”

“Oh, yeah I can show you,” Rhys got to his feet, sliding his goggles down to hang around his neck. “I know this place is like a damn maze sometimes. Back when I first started I got lost on my way to the breakroom…ended up down in maintenance somehow.” He laughed.

“No kidding?”

“Yeah, I was like twenty minutes late coming back,” Rhys rubbed the back of his neck. “My boss was pissed.”

“Yeesh,” Hugo chuckled, shaking his head. “I can definitely relate. Jack’s gonna rip me a new one if I’m not back by three.”

“Jack?” he asked suddenly, blinking, “Oh, that’s right. You’re in programming aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Hugo nodded, his grin all teeth now that Rhys had taken the bait. “You know Jack?”

“Mm, yeah,” Rhys nodded, “He’s my boyfriend, actually.”

“You don’t say,” Hugo’s eyes widened as he feigned surprise. “Huh. How long have you guys been together?”

“Almost three years,” Rhys replied with a smile, and Hugo didn’t let the fact that the smile was for Jack stop his heart from fluttering in his chest at the sight of it.

Rhys led him back to the elevator, giving Hugo ample time to look him up and down. He could only imagine how pale Rhys was beneath that outfit, how good he’d look spread out on Hugo’s black bedspread. And those lips—plump and pouty and looking soft to the touch. He was perfect, ripe for the picking, and Hugo wanted to be the one sinking his teeth in.

It wasn’t just Rhys’ body he was interested in, though. They hardly had time to talk, but Hugo had seen his anger, making him red in the face, his voice assertive. He’d seen him soft and happy, at the coffee shop, even if that happiness had been directed toward the wrong person.

Rhys had a way about him that Hugo knew would complement him; Rhys was lithe while Hugo was broad, shy in a way that he knew would fit well against his own dominant personality. Two halves of a perfect whole. He just couldn’t believe it had taken so long for him and Rhys to meet, when they were so obviously good for each other.

Hugo had to have him, Jack be damned.

He had to play this subtle, show Rhys how bad Jack was for him, then swoop in and pick up the pieces at the right time.

“Congrats,” Hugo said as they stepped into the elevator.

Rhys tapped the button for the 12th floor, and the doors slid shut. “Thanks,” he replied, still all smiles.

A moment of silence passed between the two before Hugo cleared his throat, “Don’t take this the wrong way—but, isn’t Jack kind of—angry? He usually seems pissed at work. Is he always like that?”

“Pfft,” Rhys rolled his eyes, “Oh he can definitely be an asshole sometimes. But he tries to leave it at work mostly…um, sorry, I guess that makes it harder on you guys, huh?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“He’s really not that bad,” Rhys added, “Tassiter just stresses him out…”

Hugo nodded. Rhys was making excuses—but why? Jack “tries” to leave his anger at work? Did that mean he wasn’t always able to? Hugo subtly looked over the other man again, to see if he could spot anything that would point to Jack getting violent with him.

The elevator abruptly came to a halt and the doors slid open with a soft ding.

“Well,” Rhys gestured out toward the floor, “This is R&D. I’m betting those files need to go to Gladstone.”

Hugo smiled politely and stepped out, “Thanks for your help, Rhys.”

“Yeah, of course. Anyway, I better get back before someone notices I’m gone. See you later.” Rhys waved goodbye, and Hugo raised his hand in reply, drinking in Rhys’ smile until the doors closed.

 

* * *

 

“So I’m thinking,” Rhys started, dropping some boxes of pasta into their cart. “Maybe we can re-do the bathroom after I move in?” He glanced at Jack, who was staring at jars of sauce in concentration. “I mean, it’s not bad, don’t get me wrong, but I like to have the option for a bath, you know? And you only have the shower…”

“What’s wrong with my shower?” Jack groused, snatching a spicy tomato sauce off the shelf.

“Nothing!” Rhys rolled his eyes, “I just want to be able to take a bath. Do you know how much money I’ve spent on LUSH products?”

“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”

“Too much! It’s a problem!” Rhys started pushing the cart, heading to the next aisle. Jack was several paces behind him, and he had to turn his head back to look at him again. “I don’t want them to go to waste. Plus baths are great…and you could join me if you want,” he put on his best sly smile, batting his eyelashes at Jack.

Jack’s face was stony for a moment, lips pursed like he wanted to say something mean. The look passed quickly, and Jack pressed his hand to Rhys’ lower back, eyebrows waggling.

“Oh, I’ll be joining you alright, Rhysie,” he slid past Rhys, going for a box of cookies further down the aisle.

Rhys watched his back, hung up on the look Jack had given him—thin lipped and almost angry. He seemed fine now, loading his arms up with snacks. It felt too sudden to be a mood swing, and Jack definitely would have said something if it was.

Jack dumped his snacks into the cart. “C’mon cupcake, time’sa wastin’.”

Rhys sighed and followed after him, deciding to let it go for now.

 

* * *

 

“Looking for anything in particular?”

Hugo glanced at the hovering florist next to him, and frowned, before forcing himself to clear the frown into a smile. He’d been looking forward to finding the flowers by himself, to give that added personal touch, but his lunch hour was nearly half over, and he still needed time to get to Rhys’ office to drop the flowers off.

“Hi. Yes, would you happen to have any cyclamen flowers here?” Hugo gestured vaguely with the flowers already in his hand. “I’ve been looking, but…”

“Of course!” The florist gave Hugo a more genuine smile, eyes flicking over the flowers in Hugo’s hands as she led Hugo towards the rows in the back. “Lilacs, forsythia, fern, and now cyclamen. You’ve done your homework! A new relationship?”

“Something like that,” Hugo replied, smiling to himself.

“I know that look on your face,” the florist said, voice taking on an indulgent tone. “The first bloom of love...how wonderful. Ah, here we are. Cyclamen! Would you like me to arrange it for you sir?”

About to say no, Hugo stopped at the enthusiastic expression on her face. He had been meaning to arrange it himself, but perhaps a professional touch would be appropriate for the first bouquet. His own clumsy attempts would be a source of shared laughter, later in their relationship, but it would never do to start it off on a bad note.

“Yes, please.” He gave her his most charming smile. “Thank you so much. I did some research on what flowers to get, but I’m afraid I haven’t had time to practice my arrangement skills.”

“No no, it’s my pleasure,” she said, heading back to the front desk. “It’s always so nice to see someone who appreciates flowers properly.”

Her fingers moved deftly over the flowers, twisting the stalks and snipping off extra ends as she weaved them into an arrangement in a charming little basket. When she was done, Hugo reached out to trace a finger over it admiringly. The bright yellow of the forsythias looked especially cheerful, set amidst the subtle interweaving of the gently hued lilac flowers and the soft blush of the cyclamens amongst the ferns. He let his finger linger on one of the cyclamens, stroking a line down the way the pale pink blush fades into white. It reminded him of Rhys’ pale skin, and he held back a shiver at the mental image of Rhys, shy and blushing as Hugo brushed a cyclamen flower over his cheek.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, pulling himself back into the present. “Thank you.”

“Oh, you did all the work, picking the flowers out.” The florist said, but she looked flattered. “Very good choices, by the way. Your partner is a very lucky person!”

Hugo smiled, and pulled out his wallet. “I should probably head out soon, before his lunch hour is over. How much for everything?”

“$35, the basket’s on the house.” The florist winked at him. “In the spirit of love and all that.”

Hugo chuckled, eyes drawn back to the bouquet as she rang him up. Rhys was gonna love this, he was sure of it.

 

* * *

 

When Rhys returned to work after the weekend, he was tired and irritable. Dark circles had taken up residence beneath his eyes, and he ignored the various ‘good mornings’ from his coworkers as he trudged to his desk.

At some ungodly hour on Saturday morning, he’d gotten a phone call from his landlord, shouting at him about his rent check being late. He’d been barely awake, only vaguely able to make out the words being yelled at him, the phone held at length.

He’d gotten it sorted of course, after two cups of tea and a quick shower. His landlord ended up apologizing sheepishly when he found the check on his kitchen table, where he’d misplaced it.

The weekend had only gone downhill from there.

Jack was moody, and had hidden himself away in his office for most of the time. Rhys took Warrior out for a walk, and the Doberman had bolted after a cat he’d seen in someone’s lawn, tugging Rhys behind him until the he’d fallen and scraped his palm on the sidewalk.

Rhys winced as he curled his hand around the warm mug of tea at his desk. He took a long sip, letting the warmth spread through him, filling him up. He sighed and set the cup down beside his keyboard and went about booting up his computer.

The screens lit up, each monitor showing a different background image. One was of him, Sasha, Fiona and Vaughn at a bowling alley last year, right after he and Vaughn had lost tragically to the sisters. The other was of him and Jack at the beach, Rhys’ face and shoulders red from the sun, but still smiling brightly into the camera. Jack had a pair of dark sunglasses on, his arm outstretched toward the camera, clearly the one who took the picture. His face was just tilted as he pressed a kiss to Rhys’ temple.

The picture was one of Rhys’ favorites, and it usually made him smile, but today, the brightness of it almost hurt his eyes, and he quickly opened his browser to cover it.

He navigated to his calendar first; he had two meetings today with the head of the department, and a meeting tomorrow with robotics…and then, oh fuck. Sasha’s birthday was on Saturday.

He’d totally forgotten.

It was fine, he told himself. He still had a week to get her a gift, maybe something off of her Amazon wishlist if he got two-day shipping.

Rhys eyed the clock. He still had a good twenty minutes before he had to look productive, so he took his time to browse Amazon. Sasha’s wish list was far sparser than it used to be, and he cursed. Everyone else must have had the same idea. One of the few items left was a replica prop from the movie Alien that had a price tag of about two-thousand dollars.

Definitely not something he or any of their friends could afford. He was pretty sure Sasha just put it on there on the off-chance that someone in their group of friends ended up disgustingly wealthy.

As if.

Rhys put a special edition figurine from some game Sasha liked in his cart instead, and with shipping it amounted to a much more reasonable one hundred and twenty dollars.

With that done, he closed out of Amazon and rolled his chair over to his workspace and began tinkering with the prototype arm that rested there.

When lunchtime rolled around, he decided to grab something at the coffee shop down the street. Jack wasn’t able to leave the office to eat with him today, thanks to the OS he was supposed to be de-bugging, and Tassiter breathing down his neck.

After this last weekend, Rhys wasn’t even sure if he wanted to eat lunch with Jack. Maybe he should make plans with Vaughn for the week. He’d probably be better company.

Rhys didn’t end up calling him over lunch, but he did make himself promise to do it later because regardless, he hadn’t talked to his best bro in a while.

When Rhys returned, he froze at the entrance of his workstation, eyes widening. A bouquet of brightly-colored flowers sat on his desk, perfectly arranged in a rustic wicker basket.

Rhys glanced up and down the hallway for any sign of whoever left them here. The hall was empty though, all of his co-workers back in their respective workstations.

“Huh…” he stepped up to his desk and reached up to touch the petals of the pink and white flowers that stood a little shorter than the rest. They were incredibly soft between his fingers and this close he was able to smell their fresh, sweet scent. 

There was no note accompanying the basket, and while Jack had never gotten Rhys flowers before…it wasn’t out of the question that it was him. Who else would send him flowers anyway? Maybe it was to apologize for being such a dick over the weekend.

Rhys snorted, hardly able to imagine Jack apologizing for that. Or at all, really. Still…

He fondly rubbed the petals between his fingers before taking a seat and getting back to work, his mood considerably lighter. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted this a little early, since I'm gonna be gone on Saturday. Hope you guys enjoy!

Rhys decided to leave the flowers at work. Just the little bit of color made his workspace so much more lively, and the pleasant smell covered the usual scent of burnt metal that seemed to permeate the entire floor.

Once his shift was over, Rhys headed over to Jack’s place. He still couldn’t believe his boyfriend had actually gone out and bought flowers for him, even had them professionally arranged. Rhys stopped in at a pizza place Jack liked and picked up some takeaway for the two of them, before making his way to Jack’s apartment.

“Hey!” he grinned when Jack opened his door, Warrior at his feet, snuffling and trying to escape.

“Hey…Rhysie,” Jack raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were coming over.”

“Yeah, well,” Rhys shrugged, “I wanted to see you. I got pizza.” He gestured to the boxes in his arms. “I asked them for those garlic knot things you like, but they were sold out,” he pouted. “I had to get cheese sticks instead…”

He glanced back up at Jack, who hadn’t moved, the furrow between his brows becoming more pronounced.

“Uhhh, earth to Jack? You gonna let me in?”

Jack blinked, “oh, yeah. Sure, come on.” He grabbed onto Warrior’s collar and pulled him away from the door as it swung open. Rhys stepped over the threshold and set the pizza boxes on the kitchen counter. He set the cheese sticks aside and opened the large box, snatching a piece of pizza and taking a bite.

He turned around to sit at the bar when he spotted Jack, sitting on the sofa. No, wait, Jack was closing the door.

“Oh. Hey Tim,” Rhys greeted Jack’s twin after swallowing his bite of pizza, giving him a small wave. He glanced back at Jack, “Sorry, I didn’t think you’d be busy—“

“No worries,” Tim says, moving to stand, a gentle smile on his face. “I was actually just leaving.”

Jack opened his mouth, looking ready to protest.

“No no no, you should stay,” Rhys beat him to it, stepping forward, “I totally interrupted you guys. You should eat some pizza with us.”

Tim chuckled as he slid his jacket on, “thanks Rhys, but really I have to be somewhere. I’ll catch you next time, okay?” He headed for the door, “Oh, and let me know if Jack starts being a dick. I’ll send Nisha after him.”

“Pfft,” Rhys rolled his eyes, “I’d go over my minutes if I had to do that.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Jack snapped indignantly. “—you can’t even go over your minutes, they’re unlimited—“

“It’s an expression, _Jack._ ”

“No it’s _not_ —“

“Yeah, I see your point,” Tim snorted. “See you guys later.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Rhys and Jack in the quiet apartment. Warrior was sniffing at Rhys’ legs, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he eyed Rhys’ pizza.

Rhys tore off a piece of his crust and tossed it to him, before turning his attention back to Jack, who reached for some pizza himself, his mouth a tight line.

“Jeez,” Rhys mumbled as he took another bite, “what crawled up your ass?”

“ _Nothing_ , god,” Jack huffed, taking an angry bite of his slice. “Did you just come over here to annoy me?”

“Okay, clearly you’re in a mood, so I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Rhys leaned back against the counter. “I just came over to say thanks for the flowers, and to, y’know, visit my boyfriend.”

“What are you—what? Flowers?” Jack’s eyebrows knitted together in irritated confusion as he moved to take a seat at the bar.

Rhys frowned at the implication of Jack’s words. “You didn’t leave flowers on my desk today?”

“When the hell would I have time for that?” Jack grumbled. “Flowers are friggin’ lame anyway.”

Rhys finished off his slice of pizza, his frown deepening as he thought. Who else would have left him flowers? Especially ones that looked so expensive…

Maybe they were meant for someone else, and the delivery person got the desks mixed up. Rhys sighed. That definitely seemed more likely, especially with Jack’s denial of it.

“Babe,” Jack said, and when Rhys looked at him, something in Jack’s face softened. “Thanks for the pizza. I was starving. C’mere.”

Rhys rolled his eyes and stepped over to the bar. When he was close enough, Jack reached out and grasped his arm, pulling him to stand between his legs. He pulled Rhys in for a kiss, and Rhys quickly covered the older man’s mouth with his hand.

“No, I’m not kissing you. You’re being an asshole.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you,” Jack replied, his voice muffled by Rhys’ hand. He wrapped his fingers around Rhys’ wrist and tugged his hand away. “…Flowers, huh?”

“Mhmm.”

“There wasn’t a note with them?”

Rhys shook his head, and Jack frowned.

“One of those weirdo engineers you work with got a crush on you or something?”

“How should I know?” Rhys shrugged, pulling away from Jack to get another slice of pizza.

“I dunno, you catch any of them staring at your ass?”

Rhys snorted, shaking his head. “ _No_.”

“Well, good. I’m the only one allowed to stare.”

“Oh my _god._ ”

 

* * *

 

Hugo sighed as he relaxed against his pillows, his bedroom lights dimmed for the night. It had been a long, exhausting day. Cyrus had been stuck in Jack’s office all day, given the task of transferring stacks of old paperwork into the computer by hand. Hugo didn’t know what Cyrus had done to get on Jack’s bad side, but it had put a wrench in his own plans to get off early with their team down one man.

At least it was over, he thought as he scrolled through his phone.

It had been two days since he’d sent Rhys the flowers and he almost regretted not leaving a note. If he had, he had no doubt Rhys would have called him to thank him in that shy tone of his, his face flushed pink.

No, he shook his head. It was better to remain anonymous for now. He needed to get Jack out of the picture before he revealed himself, or things would get messy. If Jack knew Rhys was interested in someone else, Hugo had no doubt he’d sabotage any future gifts he sent, and possibly get violent with Rhys.

Hugo’s fingers tightened around his phone at the thought of Jack controlling Rhys’ life in such a way. What if he screened all of Rhys’ calls and emails? Would Hugo even have a way to reach Rhys if he needed to? Jack was dangerous, and Hugo needed to get some proof soon, before Rhys ended up seriously hurt.

He sighed through his nose and relaxed his grip; there was no sense getting angry right now. He had to focus.

Hugo navigated to the Facebook app, ignoring his notifications in favor of clicking on the search bar. He typed Jack’s name, frowning when it brought up several profiles—the first of which had a picture of his boss grinning obnoxiously, a pair of shades perched on his head. He pulled it up and scrolled down to Jack’s friend list, the hot anger in his gut dissipating when he saw Rhys right at the top.

Rhys Oliver.

His head was turned, looking somewhere off screen, and a small smile tugged at his lips. He was wearing a short-sleeved V-neck that dipped low enough to show off his collarbone, and the beginning curves of a blue tattoo.

It was a great shot, showing off the elegant curve of his nose, the soft slope of his chin. Hugo pressed his thumb down on the picture and saved it to his phone.

He scrolled through Rhys’ profile, reading every status and comment he’d ever made. He found out his birthday (July 2nd), his hometown (Redmond, Washington), and where he went to college (Caltech). Hugo even glanced through Rhys’ list of favorite movies, music, TV shows…anything he could get his hands on.

Hugo went through Rhys’ pictures—there were a lot of his friends, his (Jack’s?) dog, and the nicer ones of himself all had links to his Instagram. Those were the _really_ good pictures—Rhys shirtless, in nothing but his underwear, at the beach, stretching himself into yoga positions. Hugo wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with Rhys sharing these kinds of images of himself on the internet for anyone to see, and when he was able to, he’d probably tell him to take them down.

For now, though, he navigated back to Rhys’ Facebook page, hungry for any other personal information he could gather from it.

 

* * *

 

The Purple Skag was busier that night than Rhys had seen it in a long time. August had hired an actual DJ for Sasha’s party, rather than just leave his ipod on shuffle like he did on a normal night at the bar.

Rhys and Vaughn had showed up together, wishing Sasha a happy birthday and dropping her gifts off behind the bar before grabbing a table in a corner, away from the crowd. Rhys loved clubbing, but he always needed some liquid courage before he went out on the dance floor. Vaughn was a good enough friend to sit with him until then.

Unfortunately, getting a few drinks in him opened up the floodgates.

“I dunno, he’s just been kind of distant lately,” Rhys sighed into his beer before taking a sip. “He cancelled our lunch date yesterday,” he pouted.

“Well, he is the head of his own department,” Vaughn said, logical as ever. “You know he’s swamped, and Tassiter’s breathing down his neck all the time.”

“I know,” Rhys sighed again.

“Bro,” Vaughn put his hand on Rhys’ shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “You guys are disgusting together, honestly. I’m sure he wants to spend time with you. He’s coming tonight isn’t he?”

“Yeah…”

“Then what’s got you so worried?” Vaughn asked.

“I…I don’t know,” Rhys sighed. “I’m probably just being dumb. Sorry I’ve been doing nothing but complain at you.”

“Hey man, what are best bros for, huh?” Vaughn grinned, punching Rhys in the shoulder.

“Ow,” Rhys winced, rubbing his shoulder, “Jeez dude, you been working out?”

“Hey!” Sasha’s voice rung out loud and clear as she stumbled over to them, resting her elbows on the table. Rhys snorted when he saw the drink he’d bought her was nowhere to be seen, already replaced by another in her hand. “Why are you losers—just sitting around!” her words slurred together and she tugged on Vaughn’s arm. “When you could be dancing with the birthday girl!”

Rhys and Vaughn shared an amused look.

“She does have a point,” Vaughn said, downing the rest of his beer. “We can talk about this later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Rhys nodded, finishing his drink as well. He let Sasha drag him to the dancefloor, where Fiona and Yvette, and even August were already moving in time to the music. Rhys bumped his hip against Fiona’s, grinning when she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the fray. 

The crowd in front of the stage was pressed close together, with bodies moving and bumping against Rhys, nearly knocking him over at times. He just laughed and grabbed onto Vaughn’s shoulders, forcing the shorter man to dance with him.

When Fiona yelled over that music that she was going to get more drinks, Rhys volunteered to go with her. They elbowed their way through the crowd and over to the bar. Fiona ordered something for Sasha and herself, rolling her eyes when the new kid August hired had to ask what her drink had in it.

Rhys laughed, loud and well on his way to drunk as Fiona hopped over the counter, grumbling that she’d make it her damn self. He leaned on his elbows as he watched Fiona shove the poor kid out of the way.

“Usual?” Fiona shouted, and Rhys nodded, giddy and lightheaded.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and Rhys pulled it out with some fumbling, squinting at the screen.

>> Jack Lawrence

< Hey

< Not coming tonight. Have fun.

Rhys frowned down at the message, giddy feeling gone in an instant. It wasn’t unusual for Jack to pass on going out with Rhys and his friends—they didn’t always get along—but right now, with the way the man had been avoiding him, and the drinks already in Rhys’ system, well.

It hurt. It really did.

Jack was blowing him off for the second time in two days.

His first instinct was to go home and tear into the new carton of ice cream in his freezer, maybe pop in a Disney movie and feel sorry for himself. But Fiona slid his drink in front of him, and he felt the stirring of anger in his gut. No. He wasn’t going to let Jack ruin tonight for him—and he wasn’t going to leave Sasha’s party early.

Rhys grabbed his drink and quickly downed it, thinking back to when he used to do this every weekend, instead of lounging around Jack’s apartment. Jack hadn’t even said ‘see you later’, or anything else that would imply Rhys was invited to sleep over tonight.

“Hey Fi, get me a shot?” he said, setting his empty glass down on the bar. She rose an eyebrow at him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and Rhys hated that she knew him so well.

“Nothing,” he replied, but Rhys has never been good about keeping complaints to himself. “It’s Jack,” Rhys frowned, “he’s not coming. Which is just. It’s _fine_.”

“You sound pretty sure,” Fiona’s tone was sarcastic as she set a shot down in front of Rhys.

He tossed it back, grimacing at the burn.

“One more,” he said. Fiona was gathering her other drinks and rounding the bar.

“Tell the new guy to get it, I gotta get back to Sasha. And Rhys—“

She stopped, giving him a serious look. “If you’re gonna vomit, do it in the bathroom.” And then she was gone, pushing her way through the crowd to get back to her sister.

Rhys turned back to the bar and ordered another shot.

At some point, he rejoined his friends near the stage, double fisting his drinks and pretending not to see the concerned look Vaughn shot him. Sasha, the only one just as trashed as Rhys was, sidled over to him and the two started dancing together, Rhys spilling as he moved and tried to drink at the same time.

The rest of the night was a vague blur of lights and colors and sweaty bodies pressed against his. It was only when the party started to wind down and August shouted last call for drinks over the noise that Rhys started to come back to himself.

It was nearing two am, and Vaughn pulled him away from the shrinking crowd and made him sit down. Rhys grinned dumbly at him and rested his head on his folded arms, still enjoying the heavy feeling of alcohol covering him like a warm blanket.

Vaughn pushed a glass of water in front of him, and made Rhys down the entire thing, even as Rhys complained about it.

“Hey,” Vaughn said, touching Rhys’ shoulder, “I’m gonna drive you home, okay?”

“Vaaaughn” Rhys slurred his friend’s name, reaching forward to clutch at his shirt. “You’re a good—great friend. My best friend. In the whole world.” He rubbed his left hand against the soft material of Vaughn’s shirt, captivated by the feel of it.

“Sure am,” Vaughn shook his head, tugging Rhys out of his seat. They said goodbye to their friends, Rhys and Sasha sharing a clumsy hug before Vaughn steered him toward the front door.

“Oh shoot,” Vaughn stopped as soon as they stepped outside. “I forgot my jacket. Hold on—just.” He grabbed Rhys’ arms and rested him against the wall. “I’ll be right back, try not to fall over.”

Rhys smiled and waved as Vaughn disappeared back inside. He leaned further back against the wall, giggling when he lost his balance and stumbled to the side. Rhys managed to catch himself before he fell, pressing himself against the wall a little more firmly this time.

He took a deep breath, letting the crisp night air fill his lungs. The street was dark, nearly black save for the streetlamps that lined the sidewalk, softy illuminating the road. Rhys blinked heavily and peered down the street, into the hazy distance.

A sudden chill came over him, and goosebumps raised across his skin, making him shiver. Even through his drunken haze, he knew someone was staring at him. It was a feeling he’d grown familiar with after he’d lost his arm and eye, forced under constant scrutiny from the people around him. Rhys swallowed, the alcohol in his veins no longer warm and cozy, and he pushed himself further against the wall.

“I got it,” Vaughn said as he stepped back outside, slipping his arms into his jacket. “C’mon Rhys,” he grunted, grabbing Rhys’ arm and pulling it around his shoulders. Rhys leaned into him, curling against his friend as best he could with the height difference. He was regretting how much he drank now, throat feeling tight. He just wanted to go home.

 

* * *

 

When Rhys arrived at work the following week, he was greeted by another gift on his desk. Flowers again, but this time accompanied by a bar of dark chocolate, tucked in beside them. There was also a note scrawled out on a small piece of pink card stock, dangling from the ribbon tied around the vase.

Blinking and unable to shove down the giddy feeling rising in his chest, Rhys plucked the note from the ribbon and opened it.

 

_Rhys—_

_my soul whispers to me_

_that it wishes_

_to intertwine with yours_

_so when the tides of life_

_come crashing_

_we are one—_

_inseparable_

                                        — _Your secret admirer_ ❤︎

 

Rhys’ eyes widened at the poem, and he quickly folded the note and lifted his head to see if anyone was around, watching him. Just as before, the hallway was empty, leaving Rhys to blush in privacy at least.

His eyebrows furrowed as he carefully opened the note again. The poem itself was very…forward. He didn’t really talk to many people at his work; sure there were a few fellow engineers he spent lunch with on the days Jack was busy, but he didn’t really _know_ them. There was no way someone here had such intense feelings for him, was there?

Maybe it was a joke, he thought, the feeling in his gut turning cold. Someone was pranking him, pretending to be a secret admirer to…what? Embarrass him? Who would go through that kind of effort for a joke?

No one had it out for him, as far as he knew, so he let the thought go. Rhys placed the note down beside the flowers and leaned in to smell them. They were just as fresh as they’d been the first time, sweet and gentle, working well to calm his nerves.

He smiled as he rubbed the flower’s petals, a brilliant blue this time. Rhys reached for the package of chocolate, carefully tearing away the gold foil wrapping. He broke a piece of the chocolate off and popped it into his mouth, nearly moaning at the taste.

_Someone_ knew how much he liked dark chocolate. Someone besides Jack.

Rhys chewed the candy thoughtfully, wracking his brain for who might have sent him the gifts. His mind drew a complete blank—the only other people he could think of were his friends, but dropping off random presents for each other definitely wasn’t their style. Hell, Sasha and Fiona were more likely to _steal_ his things than leave him gifts.

It could wait, he guessed. Maybe the person would eventually come forward, and Rhys would have to let them down gently. Or…maybe they were cute, and nice, and if Jack kept being such a dick, Rhys could run away with his mysterious admirer.

He snorted at the thought, shaking his head and the stars from his eyes.

 

* * *

 

“What the hell are those?” Jack asked when he stepped into Rhys’ apartment a few days later, eyes narrowing in on the vase of flowers Rhys had received from his admirer.

“Flowers, Jack,” Rhys rolled his eyes as he finished loading up the dishwasher and hit start. “Obviously.”

“Alright smartass,” Jack scoffed, “ _why_ are they here? Are those from your creepy stalker?”

Rhys frowned, watching the tense line of Jack’s back as he made his way to the vase of flowers to inspect them. He picked up the note, turning it over in his hands before opening it and reading the poem inside.

“Just because they leave me gifts doesn’t make them a stalker,” Rhys huffed, drying his hands off and coming to stand beside Jack at the table. He crossed his arms, “whoever they are—they’re harmless.”

“Yuh huh,” Jack scowled down at the poem, before tossing it back on the table. He turned toward Rhys, arms crossed to mirror Rhys’. “That poem is pretty friggin’ creepy. I mean, intertwining souls? What the hell?”

“It’s just a poem, Jack,” Rhys sighed, “they probably just found some generic card and grabbed it. They just have a crush, it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a _big deal_?” Jack scoffed. “You’re accepting gifts from some weirdo you don’t even know. Hint hint, Rhysie—someone who wants to bang you but doesn’t show their identity? _Probably_ a creepy fuckin’ stalker.”

“Right, cause _you’re_ the master of understanding relationships and people.”  

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Nevermind,” Rhys turned away and headed to his bedroom. He was supposed to spend the night at Jack’s, but if his boyfriend insisted on being an absolute ass—he wasn’t sure if he still wanted to. They hadn’t spent much time together lately though, and Rhys did miss him, despite his shitty attitude. With an irritated huff, Rhys started throwing together his overnight bag.

“Cupcake,” Jack said from the doorway, having following Rhys from the kitchen. “I’m just saying—you have no idea who this guy is. He could be jerkin’ his dick all over some framed picture of you in his parent’s basement.”

“Nice, Jack.”

“I’m serious!”

Rhys stuffed his toiletries in his bag alongside his pajamas and tossed it to Jack, who caught it easily.

“Look, I don’t really like the idea of some wacko giving my boyf—giving you gifts. And you _keeping_ them!” Jack raised his voice, the scowl on his face deepening.

“Oh what the hell do you even care?” Rhys snapped before he could stop himself, a sharp anger stabbing into him when Jack couldn’t even call him his goddamn boyfriend. “You’ve barely spoken to me for weeks. You keep bailing on me, avoiding me for—I don’t know what!”

“I’m not _avoiding_ you—“

“Yes you are!” Rhys cut him off, his fists clenching tight at his sides. He could feel tears stinging in his eyes, but he refused to wipe them away in front of Jack right now. “You _are_.”

Something in Jack’s expression softened, and he tossed Rhys’ bag aside with a quiet thump before stepping toward him. Rhys sniffed, keeping his watery glare fixed on the other man.

“Rhysie…”

“ _What_.”

Jack stopped just in front of him and brought his hands up to gently rub Rhys’ upper arms. “Hey, come on. You know I’ve been busy with work. I’m not avoiding you.”

Rhys’ scowl didn’t waver, even when his tears _betrayed_ him and started to spill over. Jack sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as he pulled Rhys forward into a hug. Rhys stiffened as Jack’s arms settled around his back, one hand moving to rub his back soothingly.

“We’ll go out this weekend, alright?” Jack offered, mumbling against the sensitive skin of Rhys’ neck. “Wherever you want to go. I’ll buy you something nice, huh?”

Rhys swallowed as he pressed his forehead against Jack’s shoulder, finally relaxing against him. He slowly wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist and sniffed, trying to get himself under control.

“…it better be something pretty damn nice,” he grumbled.

Jack laughed, his chest vibrating with the sound. “Sure baby, whatever you want.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this chapter, and I hope you're all ready for nearly 5k of Hugo Vasquez. BIG THANK YOU to Jun who wrote half of this, 36 and Ledgem for betaing, and to everyone who has commented!!

Hugo had a problem. A Rhys-shaped problem.

Well.

To be specific, a Rhys-in-a-yoga-pose-shaped problem.

Moving his scowl from his phone to his crotch, Hugo adjusted himself into a more comfortable position, and got back to the issue at hand. He flicked to the next photo on Rhys’ Instagram feed, careful not to double-tap. An innocuous one, of Rhys with a goofy expression posing over a ridiculously large bowl of noodles. Followed by yet another damn picture of Rhys doing yoga. This time, wearing a soft-looking pair of sweatpants and nothing else.

Rhys’ tattoos in all their full glory, only highlighted the lines of the muscles in his chest and arm, but Hugo’s eyes were drawn to the way Rhys’ back arched and his head bent back so that his throat was exposed, bare, and so vulnerable looking. The tense expression of concentration on his face lent itself easily to...other applications, and Hugo groaned and gave in to the smallest indulgence, sliding one hand into his shorts to palm at his half-hard dick.

Another picture of Rhys at the beach, clearly a favorite place of his going by the number of beach photos Hugo had scrolled by so far. The soft looking curve of his mouth over his martini glass as he gave the camera a secretive smile made Hugo wonder desperately what Rhys’ mouth would feel like against his own as he smiled, just like that.

A picture of Rhys stretched out across the sofa, brows furrowed and the slightest pout on his face as he reads from a thin paperback held above his face. It was easy for Hugo to ignore the caption clearly written by Jack (‘ _dumdum trying to read without moving his lips. what, not enough pictures for you?’)_ and the storm of comments beneath it, and focus instead on the way Rhys’ shirt had ridden up to reveal the barest slice of pale flesh.

Closing his eyes, Hugo palmed himself again, harder, and thought about Rhys beneath him, about pushing that shirt up even further to reveal more of Rhys’ skin, about what it would feel like to rub his hard cock against Rhys’ belly, to mark the no doubt soft paleness with his teeth and hands. He wondered if Rhys was noisy in bed, if he would moan and cry out with abandon, or if he would hold back whimpers, be shy beneath Hugo’s hands until Hugo could coax him into losing control. The thought that Jack Lawrence of all people would know almost made him snarl.

Taking a deep breath, Hugo opened his eyes again, and scrolled down to the next picture. Another one of Rhys and his short friend, although all Hugo could focus on was the crinkles in the corners of Rhys’ eyes, the way the tiniest bit of tongue peeked out between his teeth. The next one was another yoga one, and at the sight of Rhys on his back, legs hooked behind his head, Hugo’s dick twitched.

God, it was almost like Rhys put up all these pictures just to put ideas into Hugo’s head.

...Which wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility.

Hugo thought slowly over it. Rhys knew that Hugo worked with Jack, and that he would therefore easily be able to find his Facebook profile. Since it was linked to his Instagram, it seemed entirely possible that Rhys had deliberately placed these tantalizing photos here as some kind of...candy trail for Hugo to follow. The minx. Slow delight crawled through Hugo at the realization, and he flicked back to the photo purposefully.

The way Rhys’ pants hugged his ass and thighs made it really clear exactly how yoga benefited him, and Hugo let his eyes wander down to the place where the cloth stretched over the curve of Rhys’ buttocks, hiding the most important part. God, Hugo wanted so badly to touch, to taste, to wreck, and to make every single part of Rhys his own.

He thought about Rhys, in Hugo’s apartment, doing yoga in the living room—no wait, the bedroom. Rhys, in clingy underwear, bent into the most delectable positions and making the sweetest sounds as Hugo touched him all over. Rhys, naked and sweaty and flushed, legs hooked over Hugo’s shoulders as Hugo pressed his dick against Rhys, teasing and making Rhys beg for it until his voice was hoarse, or until Hugo could stand it no longer.

Probably the latter, because going by what Hugo had overheard of Rhys’ voice so far, Rhys seemed like he would have exactly the kind of bedroom voice that could make Hugo come like a shot.

Hugo flicked his way back up to a more recent photo, one of Rhys in sunglasses with the slightest sunburn and licking at a red popsicle, fumbling at the catch of his trousers as he went. His dick was fully hard by now, and he was pumping it even as his eyes fixed onto Rhys’ tongue, imagining how Rhys’ mouth would feel on Hugo’s cock.

He squeezed the head of his dick, and flicked back down, scrolling back to the picture of Rhys’ ass. _Fuck_ , he thought almost deliriously, speeding up the pace of his hand as he thought about how good it would feel to fuck his way into Rhys’ hole.

“Fuck,” he repeated, biting down on the fricative as he stared at Rhys’ ass. “Fuck.”

A few more strokes were all it took until he was coming, hand squeezing down onto the head of his dick to make it better, last longer, and he came with Rhys’ name on his mouth and Rhys’ ass on his phone screen.

As he wiped his hand off onto the handtowel on his desk, he made to exit the Instagram app, only for the picture on his screen to jump. Instantly on edge about the possibility of having accidentally gotten some come on his screen and leaving traces of his activity, he snatched his phone up, only to realize to his delight that the picture had moved because Rhys had just uploaded a picture. What perfect timing; it almost made him wonder if Rhys somehow knew what Hugo was doing, the little tease.

He scrolled back up with a fond smile, only to be met with a picture of Jack fucking Lawrence, making a face over a fancy looking brunch platter. The caption only made his mood worse, some sappy shit about good food and good company, and Hugo quit the app with a scowl.

He really needed to fix that Jack problem, stat.

 

* * *

 

 

Hugo started watching Jack more closely at work. He kept a list, on a small legal pad, tucked discreetly away in his desk, of Jack’s behavior over the next few weeks. He marked down every angry outburst, every shouting match he heard through the thin walls of Jack’s office, and while there wasn’t really a pattern, the frequency of the outbursts definitely grew as time went on.

Again, Hugo had to wonder, if Jack was like this at work, stressed and angry and shouting, how was he at home? There was no way he was able to leave all of that at the office when he went back to Rhys at the end of the day.

Hugo couldn’t stand the idea of Rhys being subjected to that in a place where he should feel safe. The thought of an angry Jack in close proximity to Rhys— _Hugo’s Rhys_ —was enough to set him on edge. Rhys had so far shown no signs that he was being abused by the older man, but Hugo knew it was a front. It had to be. Rhys was just too afraid to say anything, and Jack was smart enough to make sure any marks he left weren’t in visible spots.

He needed to find proof, and soon, before something seriously bad happened to Rhys. Hugo was sure he could find something, anything, if he could just get into Jack’s office. It wouldn’t be hard; he knew when his boss’ lunch hours was, how long it lasted, and how much extra time Jack usually took for it.

He kept an eye on the clock, fingers tapping on his desk as he waited for noon to roll around.

Unfortunately, the CEO decided to stroll out of the elevators at 11:45 sharp, flanked on either side by his secretary and PA, both scurrying to keep up with his fast pace.

Most of Hugo’s coworkers looked up from their computers, staring wide-eyed as the CEO made his way through their floor, heading straight for Jack’s office.

Tassiter was a scary man, even Vasquez would admit, and he was glad to not be the one who had to meet with him. Judging from the man’s stiff posture and tense expression, he wasn’t there with good news. Once he stepped into Jack’s office, he shut the door firmly behind him, leaving his assistants to wait outside.

With the new OS only a week from launching, it was likely Tassiter was there to yell at Jack about it.

_Good,_ Hugo thought. Jack deserved to be yelled at, and more. He wanted to listen in, but with Tassiter’s lackey’s crowding around the office door, it would be too suspicious, especially if he wanted to actually get into Jack’s office later.

With a frown, Hugo stayed put, but kept his eyes on the door over the top of his computer screen.

It wasn’t ten minutes later that Tassiter stepped back out of Jack’s office, a grimace on his face as he smoothed his lapels with a sharp tug. He headed back toward the elevators, his assistants following closely behind.

A loud crash came from Jack’s office, making Hugo jump in his seat. The entire floor’s attention turned toward their boss’ office, and Hugo’s eyes-widened when he spotted the broken lamp lying at the foot of Jack’s desk. Glass shards littered the carpet, and they crunched under Jack’s boots as he stepped over to the doorway.

“ _Get back to work,”_ Jack hissed and slammed the door shut.

Everyone quickly averted their attention back to their computers, and the sound of fingers on keyboards filled the office once more. Hugo frowned, thinking he might have to wait until another day to snoop around Jack’s office. Who knew when Jack would leave now.

It seemed that fate was on his side, as a few moments later, Jack stormed out of his office, hastily tugging his jacket on. He slammed the office door behind him, and stalked to the elevator, the deep-set scowl on his face remaining until the elevator doors slid shut.

A tense quiet came over the office for a moment, before everyone dissolved into whispers, leaning between cubicles to chatter. Hugo tuned them out, eyes glued on the elevator doors as he waited to see if their boss would return.

The doors didn’t open again.

Once the office emptied as people clocked out for lunch, Hugo stood from his seat, smoothing a hand over his unwrinkled suit, and headed towards Jack’s office.

Getting inside was easy enough. Jack didn’t bother to lock it when he stormed out earlier. He quietly shut the door behind him after he stepped inside and flipped the light switch.

In the swath of light, his eyes were immediately drawn to the potted plant strewn across the floor. The pot was shattered and black soil sat staining the carpet, the sad little fern lying on its side. He shook his head at the remnant of Jack’s temper tantrum and carefully stepped over the mess.

The office itself was pretty standard; a large window that faced outward toward the park. A really nice view that only agitated Hugo further. The walls had some of Jack’s framed certifications and several pictures of him alongside them. One of him meeting Tassiter—it must have been the first time, because he was smiling as he shook the CEO’s hand.

There were no pictures of Rhys. Hugo scoffed. If Rhys was _his,_ Hugo would have pictures of him everywhere. Jack didn’t deserve him.

Unfortunately, searching through Jack’s office didn’t turn up much. Mostly just paperwork about the new OS and a bunch of menus for takeout. But Hugo had saved the most promising item for last.

Hugo’s eyes slid to the laptop he’d so far ignored, sitting innocently on Jack’s desk, still open and begging him to look through. He took a seat in Jack’s chair and tapped at the laptop’s touchpad, crossing his fingers that it wasn’t locked.

The monitor lit up, and Hugo grinned as it immediately showed Jack’s desktop, no password required. Jack’s background image was of the beach, sunny and warm and generic, like some stock photo he’d just grabbed off the internet. Or it would be, if Hugo hadn’t seen Rhys’ frame, familiar even from a distance, standing near the water’s edge.

Scowling, Hugo quickly opened Jack’s file explorer to cover the image, disgusted by the false sense of domesticity. He clicked on the search bar, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he thought what to look for. ‘Rhys’ yielded zero search results, as did ‘boyfriend’.

Hugo stabbed backspace, knowing he’d have to do this the old fashioned way. He clicked on the first file at the top of the page, labeled only with a series of numbers and letters. He went quickly, eyes darting up to the door every few minutes or so, half expecting Jack to burst in and fire him for looking through his things. The door never opened though, and Hugo waded his way through documents full of code and work-related programs.

He moved on to Jack’s picture album—and grinned when the very first image was of Rhys, curled up on a couch with the dog Hugo’d seen on his Instagram. It was labeled only with the date it was taken, as were the rest of the images, with seemingly no method of organization whatsoever.

Some of the images he’d seen before, on Rhys’ facebook, but most were new to him and over half of them featured Jack as well. Jack with his arm around Rhys’ shoulders, Jack pressing a kiss to Rhys’ temple while Rhys grinned at the camera. Some pictures didn’t even have Rhys in them, showing Jack with a woman who had short, dark hair. Hugo’s eyebrows rose in interest. An affair, perhaps? Hugo wouldn’t be surprised to hear Jack was the cheating sort.

He quickly cycled through the rest of the images, hoping to find one of Jack and this mystery woman in a compromising position. All he found was one of them laughing together, clearly inebriated, Rhys’ head just barely visible off the side.

Rhys must know her then.

Of course, that didn’t mean Jack wasn’t still cheating with her. Hugo made a mental note to investigate further.

He checked through Jack’s internet browser history, but there was nothing there but some website full of baking recipes. He glanced at the date of the last browser history deletion, narrowing his eyes when he saw that it had been earlier today. Coincidence? Probably not.

Either Jack was afraid Rhys might find something he shouldn’t, or he knew someone was onto him.

_Dammit_. Hugo should have done this sooner. Who knew what kind of twisted websites Jack had been visiting? Hugo would probably never get another chance to search the laptop. His jaw clenched as he exited the browser, angry with both himself and Jack.

He continued to search through Jack’s personal files, even looking through his video folder, just to be as thorough as possible. Hugo wasn’t expecting to see any files, but he paused when three popped up. The first two were videos about Hyperion—the opening of the new office, Tassiter’s ceremony speech, the announcement of the new OS at their last conference.

The third video’s screen cap was completely black, and Hugo eyed the door once again before hitting play.

The video opened on Rhys’ face, eyes screwed shut tightly, his mouth hanging open as breathless little noises left him. Hugo’s eyes widened; Rhys looked to be in pain, and he couldn’t believe his luck. Was Jack really stupid enough to film himself hurting Rhys? And save the video of it to his _laptop_ of all places?

The camera zoomed out, slowly revealing Rhys’ pale neck and chest, the blue tattoo Hugo had only seen pieces of on full display, swirling along Rhys’ skin. His mechanical arm wasn’t attached, leaving him to fist the sheets beneath him with only his left hand. The noises, Hugo quickly realized, were not from pain, but from pleasure.

Rhys’ body was jerking up towards the headboard and Hugo heard the unmistakable sound of skin against skin with every movement. He swallowed, his mouth going dry as he realized Rhys was getting fucked.

The little whimpers and moans getting wrung out of him went straight to Hugo’s dick, and he could already feel himself straining against his pants.

The camera pulled back even further to show Rhys’ cute little cock, hard and curved upward, bouncing with every hard thrust into him. Hugo hungrily took in the sight, eyes roving over Rhys’ body, so open and willing for him. He presses a hand against the hard line of his cock through his pants—

“ _Fuck, Rhysie. You’re so good for me, aren’t you baby?”_ Jack’s voice cut through, snapping Hugo out of his pleasant haze. He pulled his hand away from himself as if he’d been burned, a scowl tugging at his mouth.

Jack _would_ film something as private and intimate as this. But why? Was it just to watch later, to jerk off during work, or did he place it here for Hugo to find? Was he rubbing his claim on Rhys in Hugo’s face?

“ _Uh—uh huh_ ,” Rhys replied to Jack, stuttering over his words. Hugo’s dick twitched at the sound, still hard even with Jack’s obnoxious voice filtering through the speakers.

“ _Open your eyes_ ,” Jack demanded, “ _look at the camera, kitten._ ”

Rhys followed the instruction and gave the camera a desperate, half-lidded look, his eyes filled with unshed tears. Fuck, what Hugo wouldn’t give to have Rhys under him like that, crying and moaning while he fucked him.

Jack made a pleased sound, and the camera briefly shook before it pulled out even more. Rhys’ legs were spread wide, and Hugo could spot Jack’s left hand gripping at Rhys’ knee, holding him open. The camera panned down even further, until Jack’s cock was in frame, thrusting in and out of Rhys’ hole.

“ _Yeah, that’s it, fuck_ ,” Jack groaned. Hugo watched as the man’s grip on Rhys’ knee tightened, and he started fucking into him harder, making Rhys cry out. “ _Tell daddy what you want, Rhysie—“_

Hugo violently hit pause on the video, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He couldn’t enjoy this, not with Jack’s insufferable voice cutting in every few seconds. The man just loved to hear himself talk. Hugo glanced at Rhys’ face, frozen with the video, his cheeks pink and his mouth open on a moan.

Fuck, Hugo wanted to shove his cock in him. But this wasn’t what he was here for. Even if he hadn’t found anything useful in his case against Jack yet, he needed to leave before someone discovered him. Hugo took a few breaths to calm himself, willing his dick to soften. He quickly opened a new email and sent the video to himself to enjoy later, maybe after he edited Jack’s voice out.

He closed out of the video and wiped all traces that he’d been here, subtly adjusting his pants as he stepped out of Jack’s office. The next logical place to check would be Rhys’ apartment.

Hugo had easily found it after following Rhys home one day, and borrowing his key to copy had been child’s play. He should probably admonish Rhys for leaving his belongings around unattended, but for now, it worked out in his favor.

 

* * *

 

 

Hugo slid the copied key into the lock, a swell of relief rushing through him when it turned easily. He tucked the key away and pushed the door open, stepping over the threshold.

As he closed the door quietly behind him, he took in a deep breath. The place smelled good, like the faint traces of cologne he’d smelled on Rhys during their first meeting, the sharpness more muted here beneath the smells of Rhys’ personal scent. Hugo tucked the key safely into his pocket, and made a mental note to see what cologne and body wash Rhys used.

Glancing around the living room, he made stock of the open kitchen and dining area, and the two doors on the other side of the room, both shut. Hugo deliberately turned away from them for now, letting the anticipation build inside him as he walked over to seat himself in the center of the comfortable looking sofa instead. Spreading his arms onto either side of the sofa back, he settled in and sighed, closing his eyes.

It was easy to imagine Rhys coming back home after a long day and curling up on the sofa to rest, and Hugo smiled at the mental image of Rhys with his hair loose from its gel, tumbling over his forehead as he nodded off against the back of the sofa. Even easier to imagine Rhys nodding off against Hugo’s shoulder, his weight warm against Hugo’s side and his breath softly puffing out as they watched their favorite movies together. Naturally, Rhys would have the same taste in movies as Hugo. How could he not, when he’d demonstrated great taste in his cologne and clothing already?

A faint sound coming from outside jerked Hugo back to the present, and he sat up, checking his watch. There was still time, but not enough for him to linger as long as he’d like. Next time.

Standing up, he made a quick round of the living room, noting how it was generally clean, if somewhat dusty, and neat, other than the mess of envelopes and half-empty glasses of tea on the coffee table and breakfast bar. Rifling through them carefully, he took note of the bills, most of them marked up in the same messy handwriting he’d seen in his office, with “PAID” or “TO FILE”. Neat, organized, and competent...truly, Rhys was a catch.

Abruptly, he was reminded of the fact that somebody else already had noticed that fact. Somebody completely undeserving of Rhys. Scowling, he tossed the bills back onto the table to join the rest of the mess, and stood up.

Hugo headed over to the bathroom, still frowning. The assortment of hair products he found in there lightened his mood; yet another point of commonality between him and Rhys, an indicator of their inevitable compatibility. After all, Jack’s hair was a mess more often than not. No doubt Rhys would prefer a man who knew how to take care of his own hair, as opposed to a narcissistic douchebag with no taste.

He made sure to take reference pictures of the shampoo and body wash that Rhys used, both of which smelled amazing, and which only gave Hugo warm, speculative thoughts of how Rhys might smell, fresh out of the shower and tucked next to Hugo in bed.

Giving the bathroom one last look over, and running his hand one last time over Rhys’ still slightly damp towel with a satisfied hum, Hugo headed to the bedroom, anticipation thrumming within him.

Light spilled out as he opened the bedroom door. Careless and wasteful of Rhys to have left his room’s lights on, but Hugo was more than willing to forgive such an inconsequential fault, especially when it made for such a beautiful introduction to Rhys’ most private space.

The soft glow of the overhead lights lit up the room in a way that Hugo imagined would look incredible on Rhys’ fair skin, and the slightly cluttered bedside table and elegant wardrobe were placed in such a way as to draw attention to the large, messily made bed between them. There was a painting hanging on the wall above Rhys’ bed, an abstract piece in muted yellows, which stood out from the otherwise neutral tones of the room, and he wondered if it was a gift. At the foot of the bed, there was a stand, presumably for Rhys’ arm, and Hugo eyed it curiously before dismissing it for now.

He sniffed the air carefully, taking in the smell of Rhys’ body wash and cologne, stronger here. Letting his eyes linger on the bed, he noted the abundance of pillows and wondered idly if Rhys was a cuddler. Picking up a pillow, he ran his hand over it before pressing his face into its plushness. This close, Rhys’ scent was heady, making Hugo’s head swim with desire, and he gave the pillow a quick kiss before laying it back down, forcing himself to get back to the rest of Rhys’ bedroom.

The wardrobe revealed an array of shirts and jackets hanging over drawers containing neatly folded trousers, t-shirts, sleepwear, ties and socks (all oddly colored and patterned) and— _jackpot._

Hugo ran an assessing eye over the balled up underwear, and tried to tell himself that it was ungentlemanly to steal things from his lover-to-be. Even as he tried to convince himself, he reached forward to run his hand over them, marveling at the softness and wondering what it would feel like on Rhys’ skin.

There was a particular pair his hand returned to, over and over: dark blue, with a subtly lighter blue pattern, and softer than a cloud. Drawing it out, he shook it out and couldn’t help but groan at the way the fabric clung to his hands. God...he wondered what Rhys looks like wearing nothing but these, laid out on the pristine sheets of Hugo’s bed. Irresistible, even more so than normal, he guessed.

Balling it up and replacing it carefully, he told himself that it would be criminal to take such a lovely thing away from its owner, even if it was only until Rhys inevitably came to Hugo’s.

Sliding the drawers shut and closing the wardrobe door, he moved over to the bedside table, wondering what kind of personal effects Rhys kept next to his bed.

There were the usual expected items, like tissues, a pair of glasses, and lube, which Hugo couldn’t help but smile at, but there were also curious things that seemed out of place. A wristwatch, battered, old, and entirely not in Rhys’ style at all. A tube of expensive looking cream for scar treatment. A keychain with a dog’s id-chip key on it.

He picked up the watch, turning it over in his hands. Ah, there. An inscription, Happy Father’s Day. Perhaps a family heirloom, then. Still, that didn’t explain the other items, unless Rhys had scars in less visible— _oh_.

Hugo had nearly forgotten why he was there in the first place, too caught up in the delight of getting to handle Rhys’ personal effects. The watch and scar cream, no doubt Jack’s belongings, were like a bucket of cold water in his face, a reminder that he was here to look for evidence of Jack’s ill-treatment of Rhys.

Scowling, Hugo placed the watch back down onto the table, and turned his glare onto the cream. The tube lay close to the edge of the table, conveniently near the garbage can on the floor next to it. A careless bump of Hugo’s knee against the table was all it took for the tube to fall over into the bin.

“Oops, how careless of me,” Hugo said, smiling at how remarkable the image was. Jack Lawrence’s things, in the garbage can, while Hugo stood nearby with his hand on Rhys’ pillow.

He switched off Rhys’ bedroom light for him as he left, whistling jauntily. Maybe he didn’t find anything against Jack this trip, but he’d be back. Soon.


	5. Chapter 5

"I just— I just don't _get it_ ," Jack said, thumping one hand down on the table. Across from him, Wilhelm eyed his hand and warily pulled his beer and plate of food closer to himself. "Why does he even keep them? Is this supposed to be a hint about me not giving him enough gifts? Tim, you've talked to him recently. Tell me, does he want more gifts? Should I get him—" Jack made a face, " _flowers_?"

Nisha cackled, and slammed her glass down, beer sloshing around the edge and spilling over. "Oh my god, he's been domesticated!"

Jack spluttered over the sounds of Nisha’s laughter and Wilhelm's snorts, but luckily Tim stepped in before he needed to start punching his friends.

"I don't think flowers are the solution," Tim said, shrugging. "Also, just last week you were complaining about not wanting Rhys to move in." He looked at Jack expectantly.

Scowling in reply, Jack said, "What's that got to do with anything?"

Tim shrugged again, slouching further in his seat. "I dunno, seems kinda weird that you'd be pissed about him getting gifts when you don't even want him to move in with you."

"I don't— I'm not pissed about him getting the gifts!" Jack protested, breaking off eye contact with his twin to stare into his beer moodily.

"He said, in a pissed off tone," Nisha added smugly, leaning in to peer into Jack's face.

Groaning, Jack shoved her face away. "Come on, it's weird, right? To have your...to have Rhys get these fricking weirdo presents from some creep."

"Aw, he still can't say boyfriend," Nisha murmured to Wilhelm, who snorted, but Jack chose to ignore the obvious bait, and turned to Tim.

"Okay, it is kinda weird." Tim wrinkled his nose. Jack was tempted to flick the freckles there, but desisted because he actually _wanted_ Tim on his side right now. "Has he met anybody new recently?"

"I...don't think so," Jack said slowly, thinking back on the past few weeks. "Not that he's mentioned, anyway."

"Would you know?" Wilhelm spoke up for the first time since they met up, squinting at Jack.

"Yeah of course I—whaddya mean, would I know?" Jack glared at him.

"Wilhelm has a point," Tim interjected. "You did skip out on his friend's party last week to come do work at my place. Which you could've done at home. But you didn't. Because you didn't want to go back home. Where Rhys would've been." He raised a finger with each sentence, and at the end of it, Jack was left staring at a damning portrait of his own apparently unacceptable behavior, a portrait shaped very much like his own hand.

"...Whatever," Jack said finally. "Stop waving your hand in my face, asshole. I don't know where it's been."

Tim snorted, but he put his hand back down and went back to his food.

The conversation thankfully moved on, but Jack kept thinking it over as he kept up with the barrage of insults and dick swinging that passed for friendly competition with his friends. It wasn’t like he could deny that the whole Rhys moving in thing made him uncomfortable, but still—he had a right to be pissed that Rhys was apparently getting fricking wooed by someone else, right?

Just as he made the decision to get Rhys a present—not flowers—his phone vibrated, and Rhys' name popped up.

>> Rhys Oliver

> think I caught something from work

> bring me medicine

> please

Snorting, Jack turned the screen off and stood up, sliding his phone into his jeans.

"Sorry to leave you guys without my kingly presence, but I gotta go. Try not to get into too much trouble without me."

"Rhys?" Nisha asked, mouth curling up into a knowing smile.

" _No_ ," Jack retorted, but none of them seemed to buy it. Scowling, Jack pulled out enough cash to cover his share of the bill, and slapped it down onto the table before turning to go, Nisha's laughter following him out.

"Say hi to Rhys for me," Tim called out after him.

God, why did he even agree to meet up with them on a regular basis? Scowling to himself, Jack stalked over to his car, pulling out his phone to search for the nearest pharmacy on the way over to Rhys' place.

 

* * *

 

Rhys moaned into his pillow as he woke up that morning—afternoon? He couldn’t really tell, but the sluggishness he felt told him he’d been asleep for a long time. His head throbbed in time with his heart beat, and his tongue felt too big in his mouth. He swallowed, wincing when his stomach rolled. Shit. He shoved the covers off and hurried to the bathroom, vision still blurry from sleep.

He nearly smacked his head on the toilet bowl when he threw it open and vomited. His throat burned as he heaved, eyes wet and stinging as he clutched the toilet.

When he finished, he leaned back on his knees and coughed, becoming acutely aware of the sweat clinging to his skin, making him shiver. With a groan, Rhys got to his feet and rinsed his mouth out in the sink before returning to his bed. He climbed under the covers and pulled them tight around him, pressing his face into the pillow.

He willed his headache to go away, but that’s never worked before, and it didn’t work this time either. With a quiet moan of despair, he threw his arm out from under the covers and felt around the bedside table for his phone. When he found it, he snatched it and pulled up his message log with Jack.

>> Jack Lawrence

> think I caught something from work

> bring me medicine

> please

He didn’t bother waiting for Jack’s response, wasn’t sure if he’d even come honestly, and set his phone down beside him on the mattress before closing his eyes.

When Rhys woke, it was to the feel of cool hands caressing his face. He moaned and turned into the touch, pulling the covers tighter around himself. Large fingers dragged through Rhys’ hair, gently massaging his scalp.

“Shh,” Jack said, his voice sounding low and distant to Rhys’ ears, “go back to sleep.”

Rhys had no reason to argue with him, and he closed his eyes, drifting off once more.

He was pulled from sleep again sometime later by someone shaking his shoulder. Rhys sighed and blearily opened his eyes, glancing up at Jack, who had taken a seat on beside him on the bed. His hand moved from Rhys’ shoulder to his forehead, brushing his hair from his face.

“Man,” Jack mumbled, rubbing Rhys’ temple with his thumb. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks asshole,” Rhys scowled, shoving his hand away. Jack grinned as he sat back, and Rhys heard the sound of plastic wrinkling.

“Didn’t know what you had,” Jack said, rifling through the bag in his lap, “so I got a bunch of shit. One of ‘em is bound to work. Probably.”

Rhys picked the Day-Quil out of the bag, which was filled with what had to be at least ten different types of medicines, sputtering when he downed a capful of the sour liquid.

“Ugh, disgusting,” Rhys stuck his tongue out as he handed the cap back to Jack. “You couldn’t have sprung for the pills?”

“How about a ‘thank you Jack, you’re the best boyfriend in the entire world’,” Jack replied, doing a terrible impression of Rhys’ voice. “’You’re my hero, all strong and brave…and sexy…’”

“Alright, give it a rest,” Rhys laughed, then winced when it made his head throb.

“You want anything to eat?” Jack asked.

“I dunno. Maybe,” Rhys sighed, settling back down, “I really don’t want to puke again though.”

“Gross.”

Rhys stuck his tongue out.

“Well I’m friggin’ starving,” Jack said, getting up, “if you feel like eating, you can crawl out to the living room and join me.”

“Mmm, thanks best boyfriend in the whole world.”

“Yeah, don’t get used to it, cupcake.”

Jack moved to stand, and Rhys reached out for him, grabbing his hand before he could go anywhere.

“Hey,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and quiet, “it’s really good to see you.” Rhys couldn’t help the warm fuzzy feeling radiating from his chest as he looked at Jack.

“That,” Jack started, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin of Rhys’ hand, “is pretty frickin’ gay.”

“Oh my god, I take it back,” Rhys laughed and tried to shove the older man out of bed. Jack just snorted and batted Rhys’ hand away with ease as he stood.

Rhys watched him head for the door, a small smile on his face. Jack paused at the doorway, hand resting against the frame as he turned back toward Rhys.

“Hey, you know the door was unlocked when I got here?”

“Well you have a key,” Rhys mumbled, pressing his face into his pillow, “why didn’t you lock it earlier?”

“I just got here, locking your door isn’t my responsibility.”

“No, earlier,” Rhys huffed, “before you had the…the medicine?”

“Rhys, I wasn’t here earlier. I just got here.”

“Oh,” Rhys frowned, “I thought...hm…must’ve imagined it.”

“That fever’s frying your brain,” Jack scoffed, “but it’s good to know you’re hallucinating about me and not some shmuck.”

“But you _are_ a shmuck,” Rhys murmured, unable to keep the grin off his face.

“Ooh, wow, still a little shit even on your death bed. What happened to ‘best boyfriend in the entire world?’ I’m feeling really attacked right now.”

Rhys snorted and winced when the pain in his head spiked up again, “Ughh, stop making me laugh.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna make some soup. Go back to sleep,” Jack’s voice grew quieter and Rhys sighed when he heard him start to move things around in the kitchen. He curled in tighter on himself and closed his eyes, drifting back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Rhys looked down at his phone, and bit his lip, thinking. The boxes Vaughn had helped him scavenge lie around his apartment, some already taped up, but most were empty and waiting for Rhys to pack his things into them. He'd originally planned on making a date out of it, thinking it would be nice to pack with Jack's help, that they could go through his things and reminisce. He glanced down at the chat log with Jack on his phone, and at the last message, sent by Jack two days ago. 

<< Working late. Might have to cancel tomorrow. Sorry babe.

Rhys hadn't replied to it, but he'd found himself waiting around for Jack to text the next day anyway, half-hoping that Jack would be free after all.

Jack never texted.

So now Rhys was left with his boxes and half-empty apartment, and a lingering unease as to whether or not he was still welcome to move in with Jack. Still, he assured himself that if Jack didn't want him to move in, he'd say it outright. After all, it wasn’t like Jack was known for his subtlety. Rhys snorted, and shook off his hesitation and irritation at Jack to tap out a message.

>> Hey, have you seen my blue underwear? Or my spare bottle of cologne?

A reply dinged on his phone almost immediately.

<< Last saw them on you, and in your bathroom respectively.

<< Why?

Frowning, Rhys went back to his bathroom to double check for his cologne. The underwear, he'd been pretty sure was at Jack's place, because it wasn’t in his laundry basket, or his wardrobe, and there was nowhere else it could be.

>> Can you double check if I left them at yours? I can’t find them.

He stared at the phone for a moment, when an answer didn’t come immediately, and worried at his lip. Maybe it had been a bad idea to text Jack...he kept going on and on about how busy work was. He might be annoyed that Rhys was bothering him.

>> Sorry, I know you're busy.

He sent the message, and waited some more, sighing as he looked out at the mess in the apartment. Half an hour later, the chime of his phone startled him into nearly dropping the painting he was taking down from the living room wall.

<< Nope, not here. Did you lose them? Shame, they looked great on you

Rhys couldn’t help but smile at that—the return to a more familiar form of banter than the stilted silence between them recently. Maybe it was really just stress from work, and Rhys was overthinking things. Feeling a little guilty for adding to Jack's stress, Rhys decided that a little incentive would be a good idea.

>> Guess you'll just have to make do with these, then

Rhys attached a photo of the underwear he was currently wearing—a pretty nice photo, considering how unprepared he'd been to take mildly sexual pictures today, and sent it to Jack. It was a good thing Jack was working from home today, he thought, because otherwise—

<< Cute, Rhysie. Very funny.

The message was accompanied by a picture of Jack in his home office, glasses on, hair rumpled, and a grumpy expression on his face.

Grinning, Rhys sent back another picture of himself, tongue sticking out.

<< What's all that junk in the background?

Rhys raised his eyebrows at Jack's reply.

>> I'm packing my stuff up. That's why I'm looking for my underwear. I thought I told you I was gonna pack today?

Jack doesn't reply for a good long while after that, leaving Rhys with an antsy feeling in his chest. He began to start packing again, but it was half-hearted, and he checked his phone every few minutes, despite knowing rationally that he'd hear it, if Jack replied. When his phone eventually went off, Rhys nearly tripped over a box in his haste to get across the living room to it.

<< Oh. Yeah, you did, sorry. Are you all packed already?

Rhys rolled his eyes, and dialed Jack's number, pressing his phone against his ear. Luckily, Jack picked up almost immediately.

"Heya, Rhysie."

"Did you seriously ask if I was done packing, even though you just saw a picture of the mess my apartment's in like, half an hour ago?" Rhys said in lieu of a greeting.

Jack snorted, the sound crackling over his phone loud and clear. "I dunno, maybe you got a magic touch with packing or something."

"Sure, that's believable." Rhys huffed out a laugh. "If you didn't want to help pack you could just say so, you ass. I'd've asked Vaughn or someone else to help."

"I'll help!" Jack protested, somewhat feebly. "I said I'd help, didn't I?"

"Well, if you want to help, you should probably get over here at some point today," Rhys said, turning on the spot to survey the mess of his apartment. "Everything's a mess right now though, I'm warning you."

Jack mumbled something that sounded vaguely unflattering, but Rhys decided to ignore it, like the mature adult he was.

"Fine," Jack sighed. "I should probably take a break from work anyway. This afternoon okay with you?"

Rhys fist-pumped silently, glad he wasn’t going to have to do all the packing himself. The already-packed boxes were  _heavy_ , okay? And Jack was a hell of a lot better at doing the heavy lifting part of moving.

"Don't worry, I'll get dinner to thank you for helping. Pizza, or Chinese?"

"Pizza," Jack replied promptly, predictable as ever. "Pepperoni, ex—"

"Extra garlic, extra cheese, and anchovies because you're gross." Rhys finished for him, making a face at his phone. "Don't expect me to kiss you after that."

"Don't worry, I won't forget to claim my thank you kiss," Jack replied, making an obnoxious kissing sound before hanging up.

Smiling, relieved and feeling more settled by their familiar conversation, Rhys put his phone down, and got back to work.

 

* * *

 

When Jack showed up at Rhys’ place that afternoon, he almost couldn’t get through the door. He frowned when it only opened a quarter of the way, something blocking it from the other side.

“Shit, sorry!” Rhys’ voice came from somewhere inside the apartment, followed by a loud shuffling noise.

The door flew open then, and there was Rhys, looking out of breath, a few wayward strands of hair falling across his forehead. He grinned widely and opened his mouth to say something—before quickly turning his head and sneezing.  

“Sorry,” he said again, wiping at his nose, “it’s pretty dusty in here.”

“Is that because you never clean?” Jack snorted, pushing past Rhys to step inside.

“Hey! I clean more than you do—” the door shut behind them as Jack surveyed the living room. There were mountains of boxes scattered across the floor, some closed and taped up already, while others were open, only half full, organized in a way that only made sense to Rhys.

“You got a lot done,” Jack commented, eyeing the barren walls where just a few days ago paintings were hung up.

“Yup!” Rhys said, heading to the kitchen where he’d been wrapping cups and plates in bubblewrap. “I’d rather get everything out of here sooner rather than later. And I’ve got a lot of stuff we need to drop off at GoodWill, or...just throw out, I guess. I still have to take apart the bed and figure out what to do with my dresser but...”

Jack nodded agreeably as he tuned Rhys out and stepped further into the apartment. Even with all they still needed to do, Rhys looked ready to move _today._ And that—Jack figured he’d have a bit more time. At least another two weeks. Wasn’t the point of a move out date to move out on _that_ date?

All of Rhys’ stuff was going to be at Jack’s apartment soon. Really soon. Mingled with his own stuff until they couldn’t even be sure of what belonged to who anymore. The idea simultaneously thrilled and terrified him. His relationship with Rhys was the longest one he’d ever been in and while he hadn’t fucked it up _yet_ , he was still waiting for that shoe to drop.

A heavy weight settled in his gut, and he forced himself look away from the boxes. Unfortunately, his gaze immediately fell onto the bouquet of flowers Rhys’ secret admirer had left him at work the other day. They sat irritatingly innocently beside the sink on the kitchen counter, a pink ribbon tied around the clear vase.  

He’d lost count of how many of those damn flowers Rhys had gotten in the past few weeks, all accompanied by creepy poems and love letters.

The weight in his gut turned hot and spread through his veins, forcing a sharp exhale through his nose.

“You actually kept those?” he asked, trying to keep his voice level even through the tense set of his jaw.

Rhys rolled his eyes and finished wrapping a mug, setting it beside the other wrapped cups on the counter, before looking at Jack.

“Yeah, I did,” he said shortly. “They’re pretty, and I don’t want them to go to waste—”

“They’re already dead, Rhys. They’ve been a waste since your beloved admirer got them from the shop.”

“Are you seriously getting into this right now?” Rhys sighed tiredly, and really, Jack didn’t come here to _fight_ , didn’t _want_ to fight, but he opened his mouth and the words came pouring out anyway.

“How many times do I have to tell you you’re just encouraging whoever this friggin’ whackjob is,” he said, raising his voice, “accepting all their damn gifts and love notes—”

“Well excuse _me_ for enjoying some positive attention, since my boyfriend is so set on ignoring me and standing me up all the time!”

“Well if you like their attention so much, why don’t you go move in with _them_?!”

A moment of tense silence washed over the room, and Jack felt his anger crash right over the boiling point, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rhys asked, his voice lower than before, sounding cold and far away.

“I don’t want you in my apartment!” Jack shouted, “is that fucking clear enough for you? You’re driving me freakin’ insane!”

Rhys looked taken aback, his eyes widening and for a moment he looked fragile, pulling in on himself. The look disappeared in an instant, and Rhys narrowed his eyes, something furious in his gaze.  

“Then why the fuck did you offer to let me move in?! Why did you come help me pack? You fucking asshole—fuck you, Jack!” he rounded the counter and Jack thought maybe he’d get in his face and keep shouting, but Rhys went for the jacket laid across the back of his couch. He angrily tugged it on, forcing his arms through the sleeves. He tried to button it up, but even from here Jack could see his fingers shaking. Rhys quickly gave up on the buttons and let out an irritated sound.

“You told me you weren’t avoiding me—you lied to my face! For weeks! Now you’re saying you don’t want me to move in with you?!”

“We,” Jack started, not willing to let Rhys get the last word in, “were drunk when I offered--”

“Oh, fuck you! You should’ve said something any of the million times we talked about it after!” Rhys shouted, cutting him off. He snatched his keys off the counter and struggled to pull a key— _Jack’s_ key—off of his keyring. Once he got it free, he threw it at Jack, hitting him square in the chest. “You can have that back since I won’t be needing it! And you can go talk to the office and beg them to let me sign a new lease before I get kicked out!”

He threw the front door open and stormed out, slamming it shut behind him. Jack glared at the door, his face hot with rage, and he was half tempted to follow Rhys out to continue their argument—

The door opened again, and Rhys was there, not looking at Jack, but glaring at the floor as he clumsily slipped his bare feet into the pair of sandals beside the doorway. He slammed the door again on his way out, leaving Jack alone in his half-packed apartment.

 

* * *

 

Rhys stormed down the steps of his apartment, furiously wiping the tears from his eyes as he went. His sandals slapped loudly against the concrete, echoing in the stairwell. When he reached the bottom, he nearly tripped over the last step, barely catching himself on the railing. Rhys let out an irritated growl, pulled from somewhere in his chest, barely covering the sob he wanted to let out.

He glared at the step and turned on his heel, pulling his jacket tighter around himself to ward off the chill. Rhys frowned as he made his way down the sidewalk, ducking his face to hide it from anyone who passed by, lest they see the redness on his face.

He just—he couldn’t _believe_ Jack. Pretending like everything was fine between them for _months,_ and then suddenly springing it on him that he didn’t want him. Didn’t want him his space. That he’d apparently been driving the other man insane with his presence.

Rhys scowled. He never should have even—even…he wasn’t even sure where in their relationship he’d screwed up. Asking to move in had obviously been a bad turn, but what about before that? Staying over every weekend? Texting him too much?

How long had Jack been holding onto all that animosity for him?

He sniffled as he reached the door of his favorite coffee shop, wiping his eyes one last time before pushing the door open and stepping inside. The shop was thankfully fairly empty, only a handful of other customers milling about. Rhys ordered himself a coffee, and two Danishes, just to make himself feel better.

Once he got his items, he grabbed a table in the corner and bit into his first Danish. His shoulders slumped as he ate the pasty, an upset pout tugging at his lips. The anger drained out of him slowly, leaving him feeling more hollow than anything.

He closed his eyes and sighed through his nose, a quiet groan leaving him.

Rhys had stormed out of his _own_ apartment. The realization washed over him, leaving him feeling like an absolute idiot. Jack probably thought he was an idiot too.

_God_ , Rhys sniffed, feeling his eyes start to sting again. He took another sad bite of his Danish. Maybe he should go over to Vaughn’s place—at least then he could vent. He wondered if Jack bothered to lock up his apartment. Rhys wouldn’t put it past him to leave the door open out of spite.

“You alright?”

Rhys glanced up, startled. The man he met at the office was standing in front of his table, a hot latte in one hand, and a concerned expression on his face.

“Hugo?” Rhys asked hesitantly, unsure if he was remembering the man’s name correctly.

“Good to see you, Rhys,” the man replied with a small smile. “Well…not so good to see you like this. Are you okay?”

“No—yeah, I’m fine,” Rhys replied quickly, trying to subtly wipe at his eyes.

“Mm, does your idea of ‘fine’ usually involve crying into a pastry?”

Rhys flushed, dropping his gaze as he shoved the rest of his Danish in his mouth to avoid responding. He gave a small shrug.

Hugo pulled out the chair opposite of him and took a seat, setting his coffee on the table.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hugo asked gently, leaning forward, looking ready to listen.

Rhys glanced up at him again and bit his lip, considering. He sighed, the urge to spill everything outweighing his apprehension.

“My boyfriend and I just had a pretty big fight,” he admitted, wrapping his hands around his warm coffee cup.

“Jack?”

“Yeah,” Rhys nodded. “It just—it was bad.”

“What happened?” Hugo pressed, his mouth tightening into a thin, serious line.

“I…” Rhys sighed again, “We were going to move in together, and we were packing and…I don’t know, he was upset about these gifts I’ve been getting, and that kind of just combined with him being stressed out. Then he told me he doesn’t want me to move in with him and…” Rhys paused, “God, sorry. I don’t mean to dump this all on you.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Hugo said. “I asked. You say he’s been upset about gifts?”

“…Yeah. I’ve been getting like, flowers and chocolates from someone. Anonymously. He hates it.”

“Hm,” Hugo nodded in understanding. “Do you like the gifts?”

“Well… _yeah_ ,” Rhys admitted. “The flowers are nice. Jack has been—avoiding me the past few weeks, and it was just…nice to have some positive attention. God, that sounds so pathetic when I say it out loud.”

“No it doesn’t,” Hugo said, reaching forward to rest his hand over Rhys’. “Jack…is a real piece of work. He doesn’t know how good he has it.”

Rhys swallowed, feeling the warmth of Hugo’s hand on his. A little uncomfortably, Rhys pulled his hand away and brought his cup to his lips to take a sip.

Hugo folded his hands together, the smile still on his face. “I’m sorry that happened, Rhys. And if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

“Thank you,” Rhys replied. “That’s really nice of you to offer.”

“Of course.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who has commented and kudos'd this fic!! it really means a lot and I hope you all enjoy this penultimate chapter if you haven't already read it on tumblr haha

It was nearly eleven o’clock when Rhys finally shut off the TV, effectively cutting off Alton Brown mid-word. He yawned and stretched his arms above his head, sighing when his back popped. He stood and shuffled around the coffee table, clearing away some of the empty mugs and crumb-covered plates that had started to litter it.

He hadn’t done much cleaning in the past week, just slowly been packing up the rest of his stuff. His landlord already had someone ready to move in, and Rhys hadn’t been able to sign a new lease. Vaughn offered to let him stay with him until he found a new place, and Rhys was definitely grateful, but it was so far out of his original plan that the idea mostly just depressed him.

If Jack wasn’t so difficult to deal with, he wouldn’t even be in this mess.

With an irritated sigh, Rhys glanced at the newest bouquet of flowers from his secret admirer, sitting on the coffee table. They’d been left on his desk just a few days ago—and he’d considered throwing them out. He really had more flowers than he knew what to do with these days. But then he’d thought about Jack, and how unnecessarily angry he’d gotten over the gifts, and he took them home out of spite. Rhys could admit he was being petty, but considering that Jack hadn’t so much as texted him since their fight, he figured he had a right to be.

Rhys tapped his fingers against the outline of his phone where it sat in his pocket. It hadn’t gone off all night. If Jack—or anyone had messaged him, he would’ve heard it.

Still.

He sighed through his nose in annoyance as he pulled it out of his pocket and tapped the power button. The screen lit up, showing a bright picture Rhys had taken of Warrior a few months ago. He’d had to change it from the previous photo of him and Jack—just looking at it had made his chest tighten.

Rhys entered his passcode and clicked on his messages. His thumb hovered over Jack’s name, sitting under messages from Sasha and Fiona, who had both given him advice that he hadn’t listened to. He swallowed and tapped on his conversation with Jack.

The most recent message was from right before Jack had come over to help him pack.  

He’d just been pretending that everything was alright, like he wasn’t ready to tell Rhys he didn’t want him in his life—

Rhys exhaled slowly as he cut off that train of thought. Better not to think about it, especially before bed. He’d never get any sleep if he did. He tapped the power button again and headed to his bedroom, setting his phone on his bedside table and plugging it in to charge. He got ready for bed, changing into his pajamas, brushing his teeth, and removing his prosthetic arm. Rhys took his contacts out and washed his face, meticulously checking his skin for any imperfections. Just because he felt like shit didn’t mean he had to _look_ like it.  

Once he finished, Rhys dragged himself to bed and crawled under the covers, burying his face in the pillow. He shut his eyes and willed his mind to go blank—to not think about Jack, or Warrior, or how lonely he felt— _fuck_. Rhys inwardly cursed and tried again to shove the intrusive thoughts away, a scowl tugging at his mouth. He relaxed against his pillow and inhaled deeply, then exhaled, focusing on nothing but his breathing.

Rhys wasn’t sure how long he laid there, suspended somewhere between asleep and awake—but he jolted back into awareness when his phone vibrated on the bedside table, accompanied by the chirping noise of a received text message. His heart leapt in his throat as he sat up, eyes wide even as he tried not to get his hopes up. No one would be texting him this late, would they? No one but—

He snatched his phone, uncaring of the way the charger was ripped from the port. The brightness of the screen blinded him for a moment, and he had to squint as he drew it closer to his face.

Cold disappointment flooded him when he saw that the message was from an unknown number.

Rhys sighed heavily and considered ignoring it—it was probably sent on accident. But. He was already sitting up and it was there, so—

He opened it.

>> Unknown Number

< I hope this isn’t too forward, but keeping my distance is getting to be so hard.

Rhys blinked at the strange message, squinting as he read it over again. _What the…?_ He was about to type a reply of: ‘you’ve got the wrong number,’ but another message popped up before he could.

>> Unknown Number

< Rhys, I want to take our relationship to the next level.

< I know things haven’t been easy for you with that douchebag you’ve been seeing, and I’m so proud of you for removing him from your life.

< Now we can be together, and I can promise I’ll treat you the way you deserve.

Rhys swallowed hard, all traces of sleepiness gone as something like terror set into his skin. Who was this? Why did they know his name? How did they know about him and Jack? Wait, _was_ this Jack? Playing some kind of joke? He couldn’t even imagine Jack referring to himself as a douchebag though, and... taking their relationship to the next level? What was that supposed to mean?

>> Unknown Number

< Are you enjoying the gifts I’ve sent you? The flowers do fit in very nicely on your coffee table.

Rhys broke out in a cold sweat, goosebumps tingling his skin, and his hands started to shake as he read the messages. Jack didn’t even know about the flowers on the coffee table, it couldn’t be him, and he wouldn’t...definitely wouldn’t play this kind of joke on Rhys. He started to slowly tap at the keys, almost afraid to breathe as he sent a reply.

> Who is this?

< Oh, I think you know, Rhys.

> This isn’t funny.

< My feelings for you are no joke.

< Now that he’s out of the picture, we can be together just like we’re supposed to be. You don’t have to be afraid anymore—I’ll take such good care of you.

< In fact, I left a little treat for you in the fridge. Your favorite chocolate. It’s in the side drawer.

Rhys looked up from his phone, and toward the darkness of the open doorway that lead to the hall. He was glued to his spot though, too afraid to even step out of bed. His phone vibrated in his hand and he turned his attention back to the messages.

< I don’t want to pressure you if you’re not ready, but I am outside, waiting. I know it’s late...but I just couldn’t stay away.

< I can come up and we can talk. Or we can just get to the fun stuff and talk later. Whatever you want

< ;)

The addition of the winky face sent a whole new wave of chills down Rhys’ back. Whoever this person was--they said they were outside. Outside his apartment, and—had left him things here which meant they could get in. _They could get into his apartment_.

The panic had well and truly taken over him now and Rhys’ breathing picked up, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He strained his ears, listening for any hint of sound in the dark apartment—any clue that someone might be at the door, or a window.

Rhys’ vision turned blurry, making reading the messages again nearly impossible. All he could hear was his own blood rushing in his ears—

His phone went off then, blaring the loud, familiar sound of his ringtone. Rhys jerked, nearly dropping the phone out of his shaking hands. He gripped the device tighter and blinked the cloudiness from his vision, swallowing thickly when he saw the caller’s name.

Jack Lawrence.

He quickly hit answer and pressed the phone to his ear. Rhys wasn’t even sure if he could get his words to work right then, so it was good that Jack was the first one to speak.

“Hey,” Jack said, voice low and rough. There was a moment of hesitant silence before he continued, “jeez. It’s late. Were you asleep?”

Swallowing, Rhys shook his head before realizing Jack couldn’t see. “No,” he said, voice barely a whisper.

“Oh. Okay. That’s—uh, good.” He sounded so awkward and unsure of himself, like he didn’t even know why he called. Rhys could take a guess, but—a creaking noise made him start and he inhaled sharply.

“Listen,” Jack started again, “I, uh—“

“ _Jack_ ,” Rhys cut him off then, but even he could hear the tremble in his voice, and he knew Jack would too. “You—You were right,” he said quickly, all in one breath, nearly choking on it. “You were right and I should have listened to you about the—the gifts, and not encouraging them—I—Can you come over? Please?”

“Wait, what?” Jack asked, his voice sharpening over the line, growing serious, “What are you talking about? What happened?”

“I just, um,” Rhys pulls his knees to his chest, “I got some text messages that are...really scary. Like—uh,” he stuttered over his words, still trying to stay as quiet as possible so he could listen to the noises in his apartment. “Like there’s someone who’s outside my apartment? Saying shit like—I don’t know, they want to be with me, and—and that they’ve been here when I’m not home—”

He heard Jack curse, then a flurry of movement. “Hey—I’ll be there as soon as I can okay? Fifteen minutes tops. You gonna call the cops?”

“I—I don’t know. It might just be a stupid joke…” Rhys bit his lip. It certainly didn’t seem like a joke, but the idea of calling the police to his apartment in the middle of the night over something like this seemed like a waste of time.

“Pretty shitty joke,” Jack scoffed, and Rhys was inclined to agree. “I’m getting in the car now—”

“Can you—just, stay on the phone with me?” Rhys practically begged, panicking at the idea of Jack hanging up, “please, until you get here?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Jack’s voice softened a little, “of course.”

“Thanks,” Rhys sighed, letting his shoulders droop a little.

Jack exhaled on the line, and Rhys could just make out the sound of the turn signal in Jack’s car, clicking steadily. Rhys wasn’t sure what to say then—their fight still clear and present at the forefront of his mind.

“Listen,” Jack said after a moment, “What I said last time at your place—” he was struggling, very obviously, but Rhys knew apologies were always hard for Jack. It was too much to deal with right now, so Rhys offered him an out.

“Can we talk about it later?” he asked, “I know we need to, I’m just—really freaked out right now.”

“Yeah,” Jack said quickly, with a mix of worry and relief. “Yeah, sure. Forget I even said anything. Do you have the latch on the door?” he asked.

“Um,” Rhys sniffed, “I think so, but now I can’t remember.” He felt his heartbeat, loud and heavy against his ribs.

“Can you go check? Make sure it’s latched till I get there?” Jack asked, his voice remaining calm even in the face of this mess.

Rhys glanced out toward the darkness of the hallway again, and hunched in on himself further. “Honestly,” he started, feeling his throat get tight, his eyes starting to sting, “I’m too scared to get out of bed. I haven’t even—” he choked a little on the words, his breath hitching, “turned the lights on.”

His phone buzzed against his ear, signaling that he’d received another text message. Rhys closed his eyes and bowed his head, pressing his forehead against his knees.

“Hey, it’s fine, alright? Just stay put—Jack’s gonna scare away whoever this friggin’ shitlord is, probably some stupid asshole with nothing better to do.”

“...Did you just refer to yourself in the third person?” Rhys sniffed, a few tears spilling over even as he let out a quiet laugh.

“Well someone’s gotta talk up your knight in shining armor, don’t they?” Jack replied teasingly.

“I don’t think he needs the ego boost,” Rhys sniffed again, tensing when his phone vibrated against his ear twice in quick succession. “Are you almost here?”

“Five minutes out,” Jack said, “You gonna be able to get out of bed and let me in?”

“Um,” Rhys pursed his lips together, peering over his knees and into the dark hallway. Even now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, there were still areas he couldn’t see. Whoever the person texting him was—what if they were already in his apartment? Just standing in some dark corner, waiting for the right moment to jump out and—

“Rhys,” Jack’s voice cut through his train of thought, “deep breaths, c’mon babe. I’m almost there.”

Rhys hadn’t even noticed he’d started to hyperventilate, and he heeded Jack’s words, inhaling deeply to get himself back under control.

“Yeah, yeah sorry,” Rhys said once his breathing evened out. “You’ll let me know when you’re out front?”

“Yeah. Think you should turn some lights on now, though. Don’t wanna trip on anything,” Jack replied, “plus sitting in the dark is uh, probably not helpin’.”

Jack was right; Rhys knew he’d feel better with the lights on. Getting to the light switch was the problem though. The thought of taking off the covers, which had come to be a comforting presence, and putting his feet over the edge of the bed was terrifying. He’d had nightmares about monsters under the bed when he was a kid—although he never imagined that his fears would manifest like _this_.

_It’s okay_ , he told himself. There was no one under the bed. There was no one in his apartment but him.

“Okay,” he said hesitantly, “I’m going to turn on the lights.”

He was fine. _Fine fine fine_ , he repeated it in his head like a mantra. There was no one here. Rhys slid one leg over the edge of his mattress, holding his breath until his foot firmly connected with the carpet. He wiggled his toes, feeling the soft fibers against his skin. When no hands tried to grab him, he followed suit with his other leg. He quickly stood and crossed the room with large steps, practically slapping the light switch in his haste to flip it on.

His ceiling fan kicked to life, and his room was engulfed in the bright glow of the overhead lights. Rhys pressed the phone back to his ear and let out a tense sigh as his eyes roved over the space. His closet door was closed, his favorite blue hoodie hanging innocently on the doorknob. The blinds on his window were drawn shut, making it impossible to see out, or in. Being on the second floor, he guessed it didn’t matter that much, but it still helped to put him at ease.

“Rhys?” Jack’s voice came over the line again.

“They’re on,” he replied, “I’m just gonna—turn on the rest.”

“Good. I’m pulling in now. I’ll let you know when I’m at the door.”

 

* * *

 

The wind came up to greet Jack as he stepped out of the car, blowing cold against his face and tousling his hair. He clicked his tongue and Warrior lunged over the seat and out of the car to stand beside him, his stumpy little tail wagging excitedly.

“Hey,” Jack said seriously, pulling his phone from his ear and pointing a finger at the dog, “you’re on guard duty tonight. No cuddling.”

Warrior licked his finger and Jack rolled his eyes before clipping a leash to the doberman’s collar. Jack locked up the car and headed for the sidewalk, stopping only when he stood under the soft light of a lamp post, Warrior going stiff beside him. The dog sniffed at the air and snapped his head to the left, his ears going straight up as he stared into the darkness. The trees rustled with the wind, and Jack turned to look down the sidewalk with narrowed eyes.

But there was nothing there.

After another moment of stillness, Jack started towards Rhys’ apartment again, followed somewhat reluctantly by Warrior, who was still staring behind them. Jack ignored the urge to turn around and chase down the creep who was no doubt watching him now. Rhys needed him.

“Rhysie,” he said into the phone, “I’m coming up the stairs.” When he looked up at the apartment, he could see light filtering through the blinds and illuminating Rhys’ porch. They were only halfway up the stairs before Rhys’ front door opened and Rhys stood there grinning, albeit nervously, down at him.

As soon as he spotted the lanky man, Warrior bolted up the rest of the stairs, pulling the leash right out of Jack’s hand, and nearly crashed into Rhys who gasped and leaned down to greet him.

“You didn’t say you were bringing Warrior,” Rhys said as he tucked his phone away in his pocket so he could pet the dog. “Hey buddy--I missed you too!” Warrior licked Rhys’ chin, still wriggling with excitement and making Rhys laugh.

“Figured it’d be a good idea,” Jack said when he made his way to the top of the stairs, “plus you know he hates being alone.” Jack shook his head in mock disappointment; some guard dog Warrior turned out to be. When Rhys straightened up, Jack was able to get a better look at him--there were dark circles under his eyes, which were puffy and red. Jack scowled at the sight; oh he was _definitely_ going to enjoy beating the shit out of whoever was harassing his boyfriend.

“Well--,” Rhys started, straightening up when Warrior darted past him and into the apartment. He stepped closer and pulled Jack into a hug. “Thanks for coming. I know it’s late and, uh, we’re not really…”

“It’s fine,” Jack assured him, wrapping his arms around Rhys tightly and rubbing circles into his back. Rhys sniffed and pulled back after a moment, and they both stepped inside the apartment. Jack shut the door tightly behind him, making sure to lock the deadbolt and flip the latch. Rhys hadn’t been joking about turning all the lights on--even the reading lamp by the couch and TV were on.

“All the windows closed?” Jack asked, already moving to inspect them himself.

“Pretty sure,” Rhys mumbled, already curled up on the couch, Warrior nestled up beside him. After checking the rest of the windows and the balcony door, Jack joined them, throwing his arm around the back of the couch behind Rhys’ shoulders.

“Alright,” he said, holding his other hand out, palm up. “Let’s see this shit.”

Rhys’ face scrunched up momentarily, but he reached into his pocket and handed his phone over without comment. Jack’s contact screen was still up, and Jack couldn’t help the grin when he saw the picture Rhys had as his contact photo. It was the two of them at one of Rhys’ relatives’ wedding. They were both drunk off their asses and had decided the photobooth with props had been a good idea. Rhys had a ridiculously oversized purple hat on and a feather boa wrapped around his neck, while Jack was holding up a fake mustache, far from the right spot, and a pair of shutter shades rested on his head.

Jack shook his head and opened up Rhys’ text messages, clicking on the conversation listed under the unknown number.

>> Unknown Number

< God, you have no idea how patient I’ve been. Waiting for you.

< All I can think about is how good it’ll feel. How _right_. When I finally get to fuck you.

< I’ve seen how you look at me, like you can barely restrain yourself. You don’t need to be afraid anymore baby. I’ll protect you from him.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Jack hissed as he read over the messages, eyes narrowing into a glare, hot anger blooming in his chest. He scrolled upward and read through the rest of them, grip tightening on the phone hard enough to hurt by the time he reached the first message. “I’m gonna friggin’ kill this guy.”

Beside him, Rhys ducked his head, idly petting Warrior’s head and worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. With a look of disgust, Jack closed out of the messages and set Rhys’ phone down on the coffee table. He snatched the vase of flowers and emptied the water in the kitchen sink, before throwing them in the garbage. He eyed the fridge—the freak had said he’d left chocolate for Rhys in there.

Jack pulled the door open with enough force to make the contents inside shake, and he flipped up the drawers on the side, eyes narrowing when he spotted the aforementioned chocolate. It was wrapped up, completely untouched, with a little yellow sticky note taped to the top. The only thing scrawled on it was a misshapen heart with Rhys’ name inside it.

Jack threw the chocolate bar, note and all, in the garbage along with the flowers.

“Call the cops,” Jack said as he headed back to the couch, carefully stepping around the sea of packed boxes in the living room. “They’re not gonna be able to do much cause they’re fuckin’ useless, but at least we can get a report started with them.”

“Okay,” Rhys nodded, reaching for his phone.

“I’ll get a truck tomorrow and we can start moving your shit to my place,” Jack continued, thoughts already ten steps ahead of his mouth. They’ll get rid of the extra furniture, get Rhys’ shit in Jack’s apartment and then—it’ll be easier to watch out for him if they’re in the same place. They’ll carpool to work, Jack could just drop Rhys off first, then head to the downtown office.

When Jack looked back at the other man, he was just sitting there, phone in his hand but he wasn’t dialing. Instead, he was just staring at him, like he’d grown two heads or something—oh. Right.

“Uh, your place?” Rhys asked, hesitance in his voice. The words hung in the air for a moment before Jack crossed his arms and replied, not quite reaching Rhys’ eyes with his own.

“Yeah, my place. Look—uh,” Shit. He’d had a whole spiel ready earlier on the phone, but now he was just blanking, apology weighing heavy on his tongue. “It’ll be safer. For you, y’know. My place has the extra security. Plus the freak doesn’t know where I live.”

“Okay, but you were just yelling at me for--”

“I _know_! I know what I said,” Jack snapped, then sighed, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes. “I was stressed out with the goddamn thin man breathing down my neck at work, and, yeah, I’ll be honest, living with you—anyone—is friggin—it’s.” Jack tried to collect his thoughts into a semblance of words that would make sense, and tried to ignore the look Rhys was giving him—all wide eyed with surprise. “It’s never lasted this long with anyone before,” he admitted, “I’ve never gotten to this, like, domestic...friggin’...clothes sharing and arguing about what damn _towels_ to buy. And I just. I’m sorry, alright? This is new territory for me, but I, y’know, wanna try. Or whatever. I want you to move in with me.”

Jack kept his gaze firmly to the side, not daring to even look in Rhys’ general direction.

“You jackass,” Rhys said after a moment, and Jack did turn to meet his eyes then, because _what—_

“Why couldn’t you just tell me this before, instead of avoiding me and then starting a fight over it?” Rhys scowled, “You let me wait until after I had put in my notice with the leasing office—I thought I was going to have to live with Vaughn until I could find another place!”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack held his hands up in surrender, “I’m shit at problem-solving, and like...emotional garbage. C’mon, you knew that.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Rhys shook his head, but the scowl on his face softened into something a little less scary. He just stared at Jack for a moment, making him a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny, and he had to resist the urge to fidget.

“Are you sure about this?” he finally asked. “Really sure?”

“Yeah,” Jack replied quickly with a confirming nod, “of course, babe.”

“...Alright. I accept your frankly god-awful apology.”

“ _God-awful_?”

“But,” he continued. “I’m not moving in with you until you tell me why you want me to.”

“Why I want you to move in with me?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Mhmm.”

“Uh…well. It’s cause you’re just…” Jack tried, feeling uncomfortable just standing there. “You’re Rhys.”

“Yeah? So if some other guy named Rhys comes along, you gonna ask him to move in too?” Rhys asked, making Jack clench his jaw.

“No. _God,_ you’re friggin’ obnoxious,” Jack scoffed.

“So…?” Rhys pressed.

“You know it’s—just. Your socks,” Jack said in a rush, not even sure where he was going with this train of thought. “They’re colorful and stupid and you never even bother to match the damn things and you always lose one at my place, and I find it, friggin’ two weeks later, under the damn couch. When I give it back, your dumb face just lights up like a damn Thanksgiving Day parade—over a sock! And I just want to—I want to see that _stupid_ look show up on your _dumb_ face all the time—even if it’s just cause of your shitty socks.”

The hard line of Rhys’ mouth was gone now, replaced by the dumb look Jack was just talking about. Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but when Rhys didn’t interrupt him, he continued his rant.

“It’s also...uh, nice, I guess, to have someone else to cook for. And you putting your dumb...polaroid pictures up everywhere makes the place feel more...home-y. I guess— _jesus christ_ , will you say something already?”

Rhys was merciful at least, and he motioned for Jack to sit beside him again. Jack went without protest, albeit somewhat stiffly, and took a seat. Rhys leaned in close and sought out Jack’s hand with his own, his fingers cold against Jack’s warm ones.

“I’ll move in with you,” he said, voice low, “as long as you’re sure.”

“I _am_.”

“And I love you,” Rhys added, pressing a quick kiss to Jack’s bottom lip, “even though you’re an asshole.”

“Don’t insult me—that’s _king_ of the assholes to you,” Jack scoffed in reply, tilting his head to chase Rhys’ lips for another kiss.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sooooooo sorry for the long-ass wait you guys. Also sorry because Jun convinced me to split this chapter, so enjoy the cliff hanger :)

Hugo couldn’t believe it. Even after reaching out to Rhys, the man had still reconciled with Jack. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Rhys was supposed to be at Hugo’s side, crying into his shoulder about how awful Jack was.

Instead, Hugo found himself standing in Rhys’ empty apartment. Everything was gone. Rhys’ furniture, the pictures on the walls—there wasn’t even a trace of the gifts Hugo had left for him last time he was here. Rhys had moved out without even telling him.

He knew Jack had gone over to Rhys’ place the night Hugo had texted him—and he’d _assumed_ that would be the end of it. Rhys would tell him off, again, and then Hugo could swoop in as he’d planned. But Jack had never left that night, and the next morning he saw them loading Rhys’ belongings into Jack’s obnoxious sports car.

Hugo clenched his copied key tightly in his fist, a scowl marring his face as he looked around the empty apartment. Rhys clearly wasn’t seeing reason—and Hugo still hadn’t been able to provide the evidence of Jack’s abuse. He may have lost his opportunity now. There was no way he’d be able to get into Jack’s apartment undetected.

No, Hugo decided, Jack needed to go. Hugo was prepared to do whatever he needed to make sure Jack never hurt Rhys again. Even if it ended up being a little more hands-on than he’d originally planned.

 

* * *

 

Moving Rhys’s things into Jack’s place was easy. After they got rid of the extra furniture, it was mostly just clothing, a few plates and cups, and random trinkets and pictures that had once decorated his own apartment. Jack seemed happy enough to help Rhys put the pictures up in their bedroom, and he didn’t even complain when Rhys re-arranged the bathroom counter to fit all of his things.

Rhys _loved_ it.

Jack woke up earlier in the morning with him, made him breakfast, they walked the dog together—he felt like he finally had his boyfriend back.

“Hey,” Jack said, pulling Rhys from his thoughts. Rhys glanced up from his seat at the kitchen bar. Jack had his phone in one hand, and a thermos of coffee in the other, looking ready to go as ever. “Finish up, huh? I have to be in early today.”

“Mm, sorry,” Rhys nodded, shoveling the rest of the eggs on his plate into his mouth. They weren’t as hot now, but still delicious—Rhys had almost forgotten how much loved Jack’s cooking. He slid off the stool and put his plate in the dishwasher before rushing to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“Rhys,” Jack called from the kitchen.

“Huh?” Rhys replied, voice muffled by his toothbrush.

“The OS is launching next Monday. There’s gonna be a party at Helios on Saturday—“

“Helios?!” Rhys gasped excitedly, nearly choking on his toothpaste. He quickly spit out the minty froth and rinsed his mouth before heading back out to the kitchen. “ _Helios_ Helios? The one downtown?”

Helios was a _very_ nice club near the business district. Rhys had only been a few times before, when he’d been lucky enough to have some spending money left over from his paycheck to afford the cover charge. If he had the chance to go on Hyperion’s dollar, he was definitely going to take it.

“No, the one on the fricken’ moon,” Jack rolled his eyes. “Yeah, _that_ Helios. You wanna go or what?”

“Is that even a question? Of course I do!” Rhys grinned. “Can I invite—“

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. The more bodies between me and Tassiter, the better.”

“ _Sweet_ ,” Rhys replied, making a mental note to text his friends about it later.

When they rolled up to the curb of the outer Hyperion branch twenty minutes later, the gleeful feeling in Rhys’ gut had turned into something heavy. He eyed the building with trepidation, worrying at his bottom lip. What if there was another gift at his desk? Or worse, what if the person—his stalker, he thought with a shiver—was waiting for him?

It had only been a week since he’d gotten those unnerving text messages. The police had been no help, just as Jack had suspected. They couldn’t trace texts, and without knowing the identity of the person, Rhys couldn’t exactly file a report or get a restraining order. All he’d been able to do was block the number.

“Rhysie,” Jack said, taking one hand off the wheel to squeeze Rhys’ shoulder. “You call me if anyone freaks you out today. I’ll come right back and get you.”

“Yeah—no, yeah, I’ll be fine,” Rhys replied, not sure who was he trying to reassure more, and grabbed the door handle. “See you at five?”

Jack gave him a serious look, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. “Rhys—”

“Thank you, for driving me,” Rhys cut him off. “I’ll be okay, really.” He leaned in to press their lips together. Jack’s grip on his shoulder tightened for a moment, before he let go entirely.

“Alright,” he said, looking somewhat reluctant. “Get out of here before I change my mind and drag you to my office.”

“Oh no,” Rhys shook his head, “you’d enjoy that way too much.” He leaned in for one more quick kiss before opening the car door and stepping out. Rhys waved goodbye and headed into the building. He took a deep breath in front of the elevators to calm himself, his heart betraying him and speeding up the closer he got to his desk.

His breath left him all at once when he rounded the corner of his station.

There was a fresh vase of flowers sitting beside his computer, bigger than all the ones he’d gotten before. The flowers were roses this time, deep red and arranged to fit as many as possible together in the vase. There was a note taped to the glass—a full sheet of paper, folded over on itself. Rhys could see the black ink bleeding through the thin sheet, taking up the entire thing.

He swallowed, and quickly glanced behind him. A few of his coworkers were milling about, still trying to wake up for the day ahead. Rhys carefully approached the vase of flowers, half expecting them to explode if he got too close.

But they just sat there, doing nothing other than look pretty and fill the small space with a pleasant scent.

Rhys reached for the note, carefully tugging it off the glass. Should he read it? His heartbeat pounded in his ears at the thought, some of the terror from the other night coming back. He shouldn’t, right? It was probably just more of the same—professions of love and creepy admissions of breaking into his apartment.

Nope, he shook his head. He definitely didn’t want to read it. Rhys stuck the note back onto the vase before picking up the whole thing and dropping it into the garbage can beside his desk. He took a seat in his chair and got to work, trying hard not to focus on the prickly feeling along the back of his neck.

 

* * *

 

There were no more gifts for the rest of the week. It made him both grateful and uneasy, unsure if that was the end of things, or if something worse was coming—but he tried to push all thoughts of the stalker out of his mind, and instead focused on the launch party on Saturday. Fiona and Sasha had jumped at the opportunity to party at Helios with him, but Vaughn had needed considerably more cajoling. Eventually though, his best friend gave in, if only to get Rhys to stop bugging him about it.

“Jaaaack,” Rhys called from the walk-in closet. “Have you seen my tie?”

Jack appeared in the doorway a moment later, wearing a fitted grey button down, the sleeves uncuffed at his wrists. The bottom was tucked into a pair of black dress pants, and Rhys couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows as he looked him up and down.

“What the—why don’t you ever wear anything that nice when we go out?”

“We’re going out right now.”

“You know what I _mean_.”

“Uh, it’s called supply and demand, Rhysie. If I dressed like this all the time, you’d get used to it, and I wouldn’t get laid whenever I dress _nice._ ” Jack scoffed.

Rhys’ mouth fell open in disbelief. “You do _not—“_

“Oh, yeah?” Jack wiggled his eyebrows, hand moving to push his sleeve up to his elbow, showing off the expanse of his forearm. “You tellin’ me this isn’t doing it for ya?”

Rhys couldn’t help it—he followed the movement of Jack’s hand, watching the corded muscles beneath his skin shift as he rolled the sleeve up further. He pursed his lips and dragged his eyes away, only to narrow them when he spotted Jack’s smirk.

“Oh, shut up,” he smacked Jack in the chest. “Where’s my tie?”

Jack shrugged and stepped around Rhys to grab his shoes. “If you’re talking about that clip-on one, I’m pretty sure Nish’ tossed it last time she was over.”

“Urghhh,” Rhys groaned. He got so much flack for his clip-on, but it was way easier than a regular tie. It was form _and_ function, all in one no-hassle package. “God, fine, I’m stealing one of yours then.”

Rhys finished buttoning up his shirt—a dark blue that contrasted nicely against his chrome arm, if he said so himself. He pulled on a black vest, then snatched one of Jack’s smaller ties from the shelf and slung it around his neck.

He pulled the ends until they rested evenly in his hands and then—Rhys frowned, trying to remember how to do a basic knot. The last time he’d worn a “real” tie had been to Yvette’s sister’s wedding, and Vaughn had been the one to tie it for him.

“Haha, wow, that is just _sad_ ,” Jack shook his head, not even asking before he invaded Rhys’ space and stole the tie ends from him.

“Hey, I could’ve gotten it!”

“Mhmm, sure, sweetheart.” Jack made quick work of the knot, his warm fingers brushing against Rhys’ neck as he tightened it. He smoothed down the silky material of the tie and buttoned Rhys’s vest over it before stepping back.

Rhys looked down at himself, unable to keep the smile off his face from Jack’s efforts.

“Looking good,” Jack said.

“Man,” Rhys looked up again with a fond expression, “you really want to get laid tonight, huh?”

“Babe, it’s been like two weeks—“

Rhys laughed and shook his head, grabbing his shoes. “God, alright, just get out of my way.”

 

* * *

 

The night of the release party, Jack insisted that they had to arrive fashionably late to Helios, if for no other reason than to irritate Tassiter, who told Jack to be there by eight o’clock. It was nearly eight-thirty by the time Jack and Rhys parked the car and made their way to the front door.

Hyperion had bought out the entire bar for the night, but there was still a line of hopeful-looking clubgoers wrapped around the building. They bypassed all of them, and while Rhys awkwardly tried to avoid their angry stares, Jack outright ignored them. He gave their names to the bouncer at the front, who only had to glance at his list for a moment before he stepped aside and opened the door for them.

Rhys clutched Jack’s arm a little tighter as they made their way through the entryway. It was almost completely black, save for the myriad of little lights that stuck out of the walls, spread across them like a sea of stars, some twinkling in time with each other. The hallway opened into a wide, open floor laid with tiles that lit up a pale blue, and a ceiling that was painted to look like the night sky, with bright splashes of colorful galaxies.

A live band was playing on the main stage near the back, with a crowd of people already gathered around, swaying and dancing in time with the music. It was something deep, the bass thrumming through the whole club, broken up by pulsing, electronic beats that were just on the side of too loud. The bar was lined with LED panels that faded into different colors every few seconds. Just past that, Rhys could see the stairs that led to the upper, VIP floor, and the rope that closed it off to everyone else.

“This place is even cooler than I remember,” Rhys said into Jack’s ear, eyes wide as he took in the sights.

“Y’know what’s _really_ cool?” Jack asked in reply, nudging Rhys in the ribs and pointing toward the bar. “Free drinks.”

Rhys glanced toward the bar, which was considerably less crowded than he’d expected. Jack slid his arm out of Rhys’s grasp, only to grab his wrist and start to pull him towards the bar.

“Hey—wait, aren’t you driving us back later?” Rhys asked, disapproval on the tip of his tongue, though he followed Jack without a fuss.

“One drink’s not gonna put me out for the night, c’mon Rhysie,” Jack scoffed, only letting go of Rhys to lean on the bar counter when they reached it. Rhys rolled his eyes and slid into the barstool beside him, before grabbing the drink menu and scanning over it.

Jack got the bartender’s attention and ordered himself a rum and coke, before glancing at Rhys expectantly.

“Um…ooh! Get me one of these jolly rancher drinks,” he said, pointing at the list of drinks on the menu. “The blue raspberry one, please.” Rhys set the menu back down and grinned at the bartender, who nodded and started mixing their drinks.

Rhys caught Jack giving him a look from the corner of his eye, and quickly turned his head.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jack shook his head, holding his hands up in mock surrender, a barely repressed smirk on his face. “You just make it _so_ easy.”

Rhys stuck out his tongue in reply, and quickly thanked the bartender when he set the drinks in front of them. His drink was bright blue, glowing under the black light; Rhys took a sip and hummed at the sweet candy flavor, smacking his lips. Beside him, Jack shook his head again before knocking back his rum and coke.

“Hey, Rhys!”

Vaughn slid into the barstool beside Rhys, an easy grin spread across his face. Sasha, Fiona, and Yvette crowded around behind him, cheerful as they greeted them.

“Hey guys,” Rhys grinned and took another sip of his drink.

“Oooh, what’s that?” Sasha’s eyes widened.

“It looks radioactive,” Yvette muttered, lip curling as she eyed the brightly colored drink.

Rhys ignored her and smacked his lips, “It’s a jolly rancher…thing.” He took another sip and swished it around in his mouth for a moment before swallowing and sticking his tongue out. “Check it out.”

“Is _that_ why you got that?” Jack scoffed giving Rhys’ cheek a light smack with the back of his hand.

Rhys pulled his blue tongue back into his mouth. “Mmmaybe.”

“ _Nerd_ ,” Fiona coughed into her hand.

“Whatever,” Rhys turned up his nose. “You guys are just jealous.”

“Not the word I would use.”

Sasha quickly shushed them and got the attention of the bartender, ordering herself the same. Everyone else quickly put in their own orders and watched as the bartender went about making them all.

“Ah, crap,” Jack muttered, glancing somewhere over Rhys’ shoulder.

“Hmm?” Rhys hummed, his glass pressed against his lips as he turned and tried to spot whatever it was Jack was looking at.

“No, don’t look,” Jack said, just as Rhys’s eyes landed on Tassiter. “He might steal your soul.”

Tassiter looked just as shrewd and contemptuous as he did at work, and Rhys did _not_ envy the guy he wanted to talk to. He didn’t even come over to them, instead lifting his hand pointedly in a beckoning motion, eyes narrowed on Jack, before turning and making his way to the VIP floor.

“Asshole,” Jack scoffed. He fished a couple bills out of his pocket and set them on the bar for his tip. “Alright, I gotta go. Shouldn’t take longer than a half hour, tops.”

“Ughh, seriously?” Rhys pouted. “Why couldn’t he just talk to you at work?”

“Because he’s a prick.” Jack leaned over to press a brief kiss to Rhys’ temple. “Got my phone—text me if you need me.”

Rhys nodded, the pout never leaving his face even as Jack left and headed upstairs. He was still a little nervous being separated from Jack—if he got another creepy text, or god forbid his stalker showed up in person and Jack wasn’t around…Rhys wasn’t sure what he’d do about it.

“Hey,” Fiona nudged him in the side, a brief look of concern flashed across her face and just as quickly morphed into a smile. “Let’s go dance, huh? You can even dance next to Yvette to make yourself look better.”

“ _Hey_!”

Rhys snorted, warmth blooming in his chest as he laughed with his friends. He ordered himself another drink, and they all headed out to the dance floor, weaving their way through the sea of bodies until they found a spot large enough to fit them all.

“I do _not_ dance,” Vaughn said as Fiona tried to bodily drag him along behind. “I’ll just...get us a booth, alright? Don’t give me that face-- _no_.”

She relented, holding her hands up in mock surrender, before telling him to order shots from the waitress. Vaughn headed to the booth, leaving the rest of them to the dance floor.

Between the drinks and the dancing and laughing with his friends, Rhys managed to have some fun for the first time in weeks. He completely forgot about his work stress, the recent falling out with Jack, the fear of his stalker—until—

Until he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention, and a cold chill run through him. Suddenly, the feeling of being watched was overwhelming, and Rhys froze in place. The sea of bodies continued to move around him, even as he turned and scanned the crowd, his heart thumping in his chest. It was hard to focus with the alcohol running through his veins, and looking at the moving crowd only served to make Rhys dizzy.

“Uh…” he started, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, “I’m—gonna go find Vaughn.” He didn’t know if his friends heard him or not, and he didn’t wait to find out. Rhys started to push his way through the crowd, nearly stumbling over his own feet. When he finally freed himself from the dancefloor, he took a deep breath as the open air cooled his overheated skin.

Vaughn was easy to spot, sitting alone with a row of shots on the table in front of him, and a half-finished beer in his hand. Rhys slid into the seat beside him and pressed his back against the booth, nervous eyes never leaving the crowd of dancers.

“Hey bro,” Vaughn said, his voice concerned. “You ok?”

“Hmm? Me? Yeah,” Rhys nodded, flashing Vaughn a quick, uncomfortable grin. “Tooootaally good Yeah, I’m great. Yup.”

Vaughn rose an eyebrow.

“Ha, I am just—really drunk,” Rhys continued. “Do you mind if I..?” His hand was already curling around the first shot in the line, and he quickly knocked it back. He reached for another one, but Vaughn grabbed his arm, forcing him still.

“Hey! Dude, take it easy,” Vaughn frowned. “You’re gonna make yourself sick. Again. Tell me what’s wrong; you know you’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m really—” Rhys waivered beneath Vaughn’s scrutinizing look. “Okay, okay, I just...got this feeling like someone was staring at me? And you know, with the whole...thing with the gifts…”

Vaughn looked out towards the crowd, searching the same way Rhys had been. He leaned in closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “You think it’s them? That would mean they’re a Hyperion employee...or a Hyperion employee’s friend, I guess.”

Rhys shivered. He’d had his suspicions, but he’d always hoped that he was wrong. Just thinking about working in the same company...possibly even the same department as someone who was stalking him--he shivered again.

“I…” Rhys wanted to brush it off, to pretend that the sick feeling in his gut was just the alcohol, but it made too much sense for him to pretend otherwise.  

“Too bad you don’t know what they look like,” Vaughn sighed. “I’d go beat the shit out of them.”

“Heh, thanks man.”

“Do you want to leave?”

Rhys shook his head. “No...everyone’s having fun and...I don’t think Tassiter will let Jack leave until their meeting is over.”

“...Okay. If you change your mind, let me know.”

“Sure,” Rhys nodded, resting his elbows on the table and eyeing the shot closest to him. One more wouldn’t hurt. He reached for it again, and when Vaughn didn’t stop him this time, he downed it.

They sat there a good while, until the prickly feeling on Rhys’ skin disappeared and he was able to relax a little. He pushed the thoughts of his stalker to the back of his mind, determined to have fun tonight. Their friends joined them sometime later to do shots; Fiona drunkenly yelled at Rhys and Vaughn for drinking theirs without the group. That didn’t stop her, Sasha, and Yvette from finishing off the rest before heading back out to dance.

Rhys sighed as he watched them go; his head was a little fuzzy but he wasn’t feeling the alcohol buzz as much anymore. He eyed the bar from between the crowd of dancers. From here, it looked far away and the floor seemed more like a minefield, and any wrong step would set off an explosion.

He shook his head; it was _fine._ He was surrounded by people—his friends, other clubgoers, security guards. And Jack, even if he wasn’t technically in the same room. Nothing was going to happen in a place this crowded.

“I’m going to get another drink,” he said, moving to stand. “You—ah,” he nearly tripped over his feet, blinking at the sudden rush of _wow okay I am definitely drunk_ clumsiness that came over him. “You want anything?” he grinned at Vaughn.

Vaughn snorted, “Bro, sit down. I’ll get it—”

“No! Nooo no, it’s fine,” Rhys slurred, shaking his head. “It’s like—two feet away, and there’s…like, don’t you know what I want...don’t?”

“Uhh, yeah, those were words alright.” Vaughn looked past him, toward the bar, before meeting his eyes again. “If you’re sure, man. Far be it from me to stop you from flirting with the bartender for a free drink.”

“I don’t do that!”

“Mhmm.”

“I’m leaving now.”

Rhys carefully turned on his heel and headed back to the bar, barely managing to make it through the crowd without tripping and landing face first into the floor. He leaned his elbows on the bar once he reached it, both to keep himself steady and get the bartender’s attention with a charming smile.

“Can I have one of those space drinks?” he asked, “the glowy one? What’s in that?”

“Pink lemonade, tonic, your choice of gin or vodka,” the bartender replied, already reaching for a glass.

“Vodka! Please,” Rhys’s grin widened as the bartender nodded and started to mix the drink together. When he set it on the bar in front of him, Rhys’s eyes were immediately drawn to the glow of it, bright purple and blue under the black lights. He took a sip and hummed at the smooth flavor of it, the pleasant burn in his throat.

“Must be good,” a familiar voice said, right next to his ear.

Rhys turned to see Hugo seated in the stool beside him, a glass of dark liquor in his hand and a smile on his face.

“Hugo!” he said, a little more loudly than he meant. Rhys hadn’t seen him since after his and Jack’s fight, which he’d been trying to put out of his mind. “Hi. How—how are you?”

“Not great,” Hugo admitted, taking a sip of his drink, looking well on his way to getting drunk. Not that Rhys is one to judge.

“Oh, sorry to hear that,” Rhys frowned, awkwardly looking down into his glass.

“It’s fine,” Hugo laughed, shaking his head. “Better now that you’re here.”

“Oh,” Rhys managed a small smile, nervously taking another sip of his drink as the jittery, creeping feeling from earlier began to sink back in. He wasn’t really sure how to respond to that, so he kept his glass pressed to his lip.

Hugo’s smile dimmed and he turned his eyes on Rhys, something unreadable in his gaze that made Rhys uneasy. Rhys looked away first, back toward the crowd of people, and—his heart leapt in his chest when he spotted Jack, coming down the stairs from the VIP lounge.

“Oh, Jack is back from his meeting,” Rhys said, glancing back at Hugo. “I’m gonna go—uh, cause he’s…back. Yeah. Nice seeing you.” He pulled away from the bar and turned to leave.

“Rhys,” Hugo said suddenly, clipped and short, and his hand closed around Rhys’s flesh wrist, keeping him from leaving.  Rhys frowned and tried to pull his arm back, and it wasn’t until Hugo tightened his grip that alarm bells started to ring through the alcohol haze in his brain.

“Let go of me,” Rhys said, trying to force the words to be stern, even as he felt his heart pounding against his chest, his nerves frazzled.

“ _Rhys_ ,” Hugo said again, tugging on his wrist and pulling him closer. “I just—I can’t sit idly by anymore. You know, you have to know how bad Jack is for you. I know he hurts you—“

“You’re the one hurting me!” Rhys snapped, trying futilely to wrench his wrist out of Hugo’s bruising grip.

Hugo continued, as if Rhys hadn’t said anything at all. “I know you’re scared of him, but I can protect you from him. Rhys, he’s bad for you! He doesn’t—he could never understand you the way I do—“

The panic was palpable now, rising in Rhys’s chest and making him feel like he needed to vomit. He knew what was coming before Hugo even said it.

“I’ve been trying to get you away from him for _weeks_ now, but he’s got such a _hold_ on you, almost like he’s brain washed you. Listen to me, Rhys— _Rhys._ When’s the last time he sent you flowers, huh? Has he ever? He doesn’t appreciate you, he doesn’t know a thing about you!”

“Let go, let go, _let go_ —“

“ _I_ know your favorite sweet is dark chocolate, I know your favorite smell is vanilla, that you have a fancy forty-dollar comb in your bathroom, that you like to sleep on the left side of the bed, and—you hang your wet towels over your chair instead of on the bar—”

“Stop it!” Rhys shouted, feeling his eyes sting, downright terrified to be face to face with the man who’s been breaking into his apartment, following him, _stalking_ him. His glass slipped from his hand, but he barely felt its absence, the blood pounding in his ears too loud to hear it shattering. 

“Your favorite pair of socks have blue and yellow stripes on them, with sparkles on the feet and you were _so_ upset when you lost one—I found it for you, put them back in the drawer—”

“Let go!” he shouted again, reeling back and clenching his metal hand into a fist. Before he could throw a punch, his arm hit something solid behind him. Rhys tensed up, afraid that he’d been surrounded when Hugo was talking—

“If you want that hand to stay attached to your body, you better let go of him.” Jack’s voice was low, dangerous sounding in a way Rhys had never heard before, but the relief that flooded him was immediate. He swallowed and watched Hugo’s eyes narrow, before he finally, _finally_ released his hold on Rhys.

Rhys snatched his arm back, clutching it to his chest. The other patrons at the bar had all stopped what they were doing, and were staring, almost frozen in place as they watched the scene unfold.

Rhys felt Jack’s hands, solid and warm, wrap around his shoulders, and then he was being moved, herded around until Jack was between him and Hugo. Jack’s hands were gentle when they wrapped around Rhys’s forearm, and Jack inspected his wrist. There was a ring of fresh, red bruises around it, and something dark appeared in Jack’s eyes. He let go in another moment and turned to face Hugo again.

“Oho, have I been waiting to meet _you_ , pal.” Jack said, and Rhys could practically hear the sharp, dangerous grin on his face.  The muscles in his back were tensed, his fists curled and ready to strike. “Hey idiot,” Jack tilted his head, talking past Hugo to the bartender. “You’d better quit staring and get security over here, cause this guy doesn’t work for Hyperion anymore.”

Rhys watched the bartender scramble away, presumably to go get someone before a fight broke out.

Jack didn’t hesitate, not that Rhys really expected him too—and the sound of his fist colliding with Hugo’s face made him flinch. Hugo fell off his stool, landing on his ass on the floor, his glass shattering beside him. Rhys clutched at the back of Jack’s shirt, fingers digging into the fabric to ground himself. As gratifying as it was to see Hugo get punched—he’d rather have his boyfriend next to him, and preferably not in jail for assault.

“Fucking asshole,” Hugo spat out, blood dripping from his split lip. “You don’t deserve him—you don’t deserve _anything.”_

“Oh, and you do? You think following someone around, breaking into their apartment gives you frickin’ dibs?” Jack scoffed.

Hugo grabbed onto the bar stool and struggled to his feet, an angry sneer twisting his mouth. From over Jack’s shoulder, Rhys could see Hugo’s hand curling into a fist, his teeth clenched tight.

“Oh yeah, come on big guy,” Jack cajoled him, “throw something back. Give me another reason to beat your ass.”

Rhys flinched when Hugo swung his fist, just narrowly missing Jack’s cheek. Jack was on him in an instant, and all Rhys could really make out was a flurry of punches and limbs flying and the _cracking_ sound of fists against bone.

Security guards were pushing their way through the crowd, and Rhys quickly made a grab for Jack. “Jack!” he hissed, tugging on his arm, “stop! You’re going to get arrested!”

Jack had Hugo in a tight headlock, his knuckles bruised and bloodied, an almost feral look on his face. Hugo was clawing at his arm to get free, his face taking on a pale color as he struggled to breathe.

“Break it up!” one of the security guards shouted, shoving through the crowd.

With a grunt, Jack finally released his hold, letting Hugo free. He fell to his hands and knees and sucked in loud, gasping breaths, his shoulders shuddering. Rhys grasped Jack’s shoulders, nervously clenching his fingers into the fabric, trying to pull him to his feet—up and away from Hugo—

He didn’t notice the switchblade Hugo slipped out of his jacket pocket, not until he saw the sharp glint of the metal right before Hugo plunged into Jack’s gut. Jack shuddered beneath his fingers, body tensing as Hugo slid the blade out, and stabbed it back in, over and _over—_

“Jack!” Rhys shouted over the ringing in his ears, eyes wide with panic. The security guards grabbed Hugo, wrenching his arms back and dragging him howling and kicking out of the crowd. Rhys couldn’t hear what he was shouting, didn’t listen to it or the sudden, panicked uproar from the crowd, too focused on the way Jack fell to his side, eyes clenched shut, his hand pressed over his stomach and covered in blood.

“Oh my god,” Rhys carefully turned him onto his back with shaking hands, unable to stop the horrified tears that fill his eyes. Through the commotion, he vaguely heard someone shout that they were calling 911.

“Jack—Jack,” Rhys cried, covering Jack’s hands with his own. Jack’s chest hitched with his breathing, and he clenched his teeth together, cursing. “Hold on, okay? Hold on, please—please, hold on,” Rhys begged him, his vision turning cloudy.

Someone—Vaughn—appeared at his side, his mouth a grim line. He slid his jacket off and carefully pressed it against Jack’s stomach, before guiding Rhys’s hands over it and telling him to apply some pressure.

“The paramedics are on their way,” he said, helping Rhys to press down on the makeshift compress. “It’ll be okay—it’ll be fine—”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is ya'll. the end. ty so much to everyone who read this thing from the beginning and left comments/kudos/bookmarks, etc. It means a lot :) Jun is the one who finished this up so please shout @ him

When Jack opened his eyes, the first thing he thought was that his mouth tasted like ass. The second thing he thought was that his arm felt weird, kind of like there was something lying on it. His entire body felt weird, actually—kind of numb and sluggish.

Blinking up at the ceiling didn’t give him any answers, but moving to sit up felt like it would be too much effort right now, so Jack tried speaking instead.

“What the fuck,” was what he was aiming for. What came out instead was something more along the lines of an undignified croak. The pressure on his arm lifted off, and Rhys’s head popped up in front of him. 

“Jack?” Rhys’ face looked drawn, sleep creases all along one side of his cheek that, along with the way his hair was sticking up, made him look frankly hilarious.

Jack tried to convey that, but what came out is another croak, this time a little less scratchy than before.

“Oh my god, you’re awake. Are you—Oh, shit, water, right.” Rhys disappeared and then the bed beneath Jack was lifting, pushing him into an upright position. He wheezed, feeling a deep throbbing ache in his stomach that protested at the movement, but then a glass of water was being pressed to his lips, and it hit him just how fucking thirsty he was.

Jack gulped at the glass, spilling water down his chin as he tried to inhale the entire cup, but Rhys pulled it away before he could.

“Slowly, don’t be stubborn.”

The cup returned, this time tilted so that there was only a trickle of water. It took a while, but Jack eventually finished the entire thing, and felt about a thousand times more awake and better for it.

“Wh—” he cleared his throat, and tried again. “What time is it?”

“Nearly 10pm.” Rhys set the cup aside, and moved to sit in the chair next to Jack’s bed. Glancing around, Jack realized that they were in some kind of hospital, which made sense, given the ugly-ass gown he had on, and the ache in his abdomen. Right. The club, Rhys’ creepy stalker, Jack being a hero, knife in the gut, and all that shit. Right.

Rhys picked up Jack’s hand and pressed his lips to it, soft eyes watching his face. “You feeling okay?”

Jack snorted. “I feel like I got stabbed in the guts.”

There was a flash of guilt and something unhappy in Rhys’ eyes, and his fingers tightened around Jack’s. He quickly added, “But better. Kinda feel like I got the best sleep I’ve had in years.”

Rhys shot Jack an unimpressed look, but the unhappiness faded from his eyes, so Jack decided to take it as a win.

“How long have I been in here anyway?”

“Four days,” Rhys said promptly. “They had to do two surgeries, to get all the...well.” He gestured at Jack’s stomach.

“Have you been sitting here all this while?” Jack asked, glancing over the rumpled clothing Rhys was wearing, and the deep shadows under his eyes.

“Yeah.” Rhys plucked at his shirt, grimacing. “That obvious, huh?”

“I think your smell woke me up,” Jack replied, grinning. The outraged look that appeared on Rhys’s face was worth the punch to his arm, even as it jostled his body and made him wheeze.

“Oh my god! Oh god, sorry, fuck!” Rhys panicked, patting at Jack’s arm uselessly. “Does it hurt? Should I call the doctor?”

Jack laughed at the scared expression on Rhys’ face, only to freeze and hiss at the pain. “Ow, jeez, don’t make me laugh.”

“You’re an asshole,” Rhys informed him, settling back down, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I’m your asshole, though.” Jack grinned at him, waggling his eyebrows.

Rhys rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile on his face as he took up Jack’s hand again. “Whatever,” he said, like a mature adult.

“…So, uh. What happened to Wallethead?” Jack asked after a moment. He didn’t remember anything after getting a knife to the gut, but if that _freak_ was still wandering the streets…

“Wallethead?” Rhys’ nose scrunched up in tired confusion.

“The guy who stabbed me, babe, keep up.”

Rhys frowned. “Oh. They arrested him…the police came by after your first surgery and asked a whole bunch of questions about what happened. The court date is next month.”

“Bet that’ll be a load of fun,” Jack scoffed. “What’re they nailing him for? Assault? Attempted murder?”

“Mm,” Rhys nodded. “Breaking and entering, too. And stalking. Obviously.” He shivered.

“Damn,” Jack sighed. “Wish I’d gotten a couple more hits in.”

The frown on Rhys’s face deepened, so Jack cleared his throat and changed the subject.

“God, four days though…” Jack groaned, letting his head thump back against the pillow. “I’m gonna have so much backlog at work, Tassiter’s gonna have my ass.”

“Actually,” Rhys interjected, brightening up as he pulled his phone out. “He’s been surprisingly attentive. Look at all these texts he sent me asking about how you were.” He held his phone up so Jack could see, scrolling through a veritable flood of texts from Tassiter’s number, all asking after Jack’s condition.

Jack narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “Are you sure that’s him?”

“Yep.” Rhys grinned smugly. “Think he’s worried that you’re gonna die on him. Maybe he knows the company will fall apart without you.”

“That, or he’s afraid I’m gonna sue his ass to the sun and back,” Jack muttered, glaring at the messages as Rhys continued to scroll. It was wholly unlike Tassiter to care, and Jack felt entitled to his suspicions.

“Probably,” Rhys admitted with a shrug. “There were quite a few texts reassuring me that he wouldn’t allow any bad publicity or fallout from the incident to affect us. And by us, I kinda got the feeling that he meant Hyperion.”

Jack snorted, and pushed the phone away. “Predictable asshole.”

Rhys nodded, and tucked his phone away before settling more firmly into his chair. He reached for Jack’s hands again, clutching at them almost absently, which was...kind of clingy, even for Rhys. Still, Jack didn’t really have it in him to point it out. Maybe it was because of the tired lines beneath Rhys’ eyes, or maybe it was the way Rhys’ mechanical hand was so carefully tight around Jack’s fingers, while the fingers of his other hand went to circle around Jack’s wrist. Part of Jack wanted to brush Rhys’ hands off, to make a joke about _Mr. Octopus_ over here. Another, more tactful, part of Jack pointed out that Rhys would probably punch him for it, or worse, get that weird, hurt look on his face.

Most of Jack, however, was exhausted. The pain radiating out from his bandaged stomach made a compelling argument for sleep, and Jack was willing to give in.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t need a wheelchair, god. I’m not an invalid, you assholes.” Jack pushed himself shakily to his feet, and firmly ignored the pleading expression of the hospital attendant next to him.

“But-- sir, your bandages!”

“Fuck off,” Jack snapped and started making his way out of the room. He moved slowly, which was really fucking annoying, but any faster and his entire body would rebel, so he resigned himself to moving at the pace of a two-dicked snail.

Before he could get to the door, it opened, and Rhys was right there, tucking some documents away into his shoulder bag.

He glanced up, and quickly narrowed his eyes when he spotted Jack. “What are you doing standing up?”

“Walking on my own two damn feet, that’s what.” Jack said and pushed past Rhys. Or rather, he tried to. It was more of a stumble and subsequent falling into Rhys’ arms, really.

“Oh my god, you stubborn asshole,” Rhys muttered, rolling his eyes hard enough that Jack felt mildly insulted. “Let me guess, the wheelchair was too plebeian for you?”

“Yep,” Jack replied, popping the ‘p’. “Now are you gonna get me out of here, or what?”

“Ugh.” Rhys hoisted Jack’s arm over his shoulder, and turned to the attendant still hovering behind Jack. “Sorry about the idiot. I’ll take it from here, don’t worry.”

The attendant looked at Rhys and Jack doubtfully. They probably looked really ridiculous right now, because tall as Rhys was, Jack still outweighed him by a good thirty pounds or so. Still, Jack bared his teeth in response, daring him to say anything.

The attendant wisely shut his mouth, and took a step back.

“Come on then. If you faint on me, I’m leaving you here.” Rhys settled Jack’s weight on him more evenly, and started helping Jack along and out of the hospital room.

It took them much longer than Jack expected to get to the parking lot, and by the time they were only halfway there, Jack kind of wished he’d taken the wheelchair offer.

“You doing okay?” Rhys asked, as they wait for the second set of elevators to arrive. God, why were there so many elevators in this hospital? “You look kind of clammy.”

“I’m. Fine.” Jack grit the words out, not looking at Rhys.

“Mmhm.”

When they finally got to the car, Jack collapsed into the passenger seat, and used the next few seconds while Rhys moved over to the driver’s side to catch his breath. By the time Rhys was opening his door and sliding into the driver’s seat, Jack was sort of able to pretend his breathing was normal. Going by the amused look Rhys slanted his way, he wasn’t really fooling him, but Jack didn’t give a shit about anything other than getting home right now.

“What? Shut up and drive, aren’t you supposed to be my chauffeur?” Jack groused.

Rhys snorted, and reached over Jack to pull the seatbelt over his chest. He pressed a kiss to Jack’s lips, too quickly for him to respond to, before sitting back. There was a sappy smile on his face, and it took no small amount of effort for Jack to keep the scowl on his own.

“Yes sir.” Rhys gave him another once-over, and then turned to start the car. “Next stop: home.”

At some point during the drive, Jack must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, Rhys was shaking him awake, and helping him out of the car.

“Ungh—” Jack grunted, leaning heavily on Rhys as they headed into the living room. “Fuck, this hurts,” he hissed. His entire body felt like one giant aching throb, and any movement made a dull pain flare up deep in his stomach.

“Let’s get you on the sofa, and then I’ll get some painkillers for you, okay?” Rhys patted Jack’s waist reassuringly.

It took another five minutes of torture, but eventually, Jack collapsed onto the sofa - carefully - and let out the longest, most heartfelt groan of his life.

“God.”

“Here, take these.” Rhys appeared from out of nowhere with a couple of pills and a glass of water in his hand. When the hell had he gone to get those? Jack blinked up at him suspiciously, but took the pills eagerly. Rhys’ smile twisted into something amused, and almost fond as he watched him.

“Thanks,” Jack said begrudgingly, and handed the glass back when he’d finished it.

“I’m gonna get the rest of your stuff out of the car. Holler if you need anything, okay?”

Jack grunted in reply, and settled himself down onto the sofa to start flipping through channels. He had another two weeks of paid leave, and he fully intended to spend the entire time watching brainless shit to get his mind off the hole in his guts.

However, his body had other ideas, and he blinked awake an indeterminate amount of time later to see Rhys hovering over him, a concerned expression on his face. His really pretty face. Has Jack ever told Rhys that he was really pretty?

“Yes, you have. Usually in a very different context, but I’ll take the compliment.” Rhys smiled, the concern fading, and ran a warm hand through Jack’s hair. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah.” Jack blinked up at Rhys’ pretty face, and wondered why Rhys wasn’t kissing him right now. Those lips of his look like they’d be really good at kissing.

“Okay, I’m not kissing you, because you’re all loopy and half-awake right now. Not that it isn’t tempting, you charmer.” Rhys, in complete contrast to his words, bent down to press his lips against Jack’s. They were very soft, and Jack told him so.

“Good. The next time you complain about my expensive chapstick, I’ll remind you of this.” Rhys laughed, and straightened up. It made him look really far away, and a hint of panic threaded through Jack at the idea.

“No—don’t go,” Jack said, and immediately frowned. That sounded...He didn’t want to be saying stuff like that. Did he?

“It’s okay, I’m here.” Rhys’ face came in close again, and the confusion melted away, leaving Jack feeling content enough that he smiled up at Rhys happily. Rhys looked kind of like he wanted to laugh, and kind of like he was considering something very seriously. It was a good look on him, and Jack reached up with one lead-heavy hand to try to touch that expression. His hand moved up and missed Rhys’ face entirely, but Rhys caught it with a laugh, and somehow that was even better than what Jack had planned.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Jack ordered Rhys, the words coming out a little bit slurred, but he tried to convey the seriousness of his intent with a squint.

“Don’t worry.” Rhys, still holding onto Jack’s hand, moved to sit on the sofa beside him, his body warm and comforting against Jack’s side. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”


End file.
